


The Crosses We Bear

by lahijadelmar



Category: Van Helsing (2004), What We Do in the Shadows (TV)
Genre: Español | Spanish, M/M, Slow Burn, spanish from a non native speaker :( but I tried!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:22:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 44,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24724498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lahijadelmar/pseuds/lahijadelmar
Summary: Following the events of the finale episode (to season 2, naturally), Guillermo decides it's time to leave the Staten Island house for good, focus more on his new path as vampire hunter and the family history that has led him to this point. However, when two of the housemates are kidnapped and his search into his own family's dark past reaches a dead end, Guillermo finds himself joining forces with Nandor again and traveling to Romania to get answers. Trouble is, the complexities between people can only stay hidden so long when trying to navigate the logistics of a foreign country.Also Colin is there because of course he is.(Will be multichaptered, hopefully long?)
Relationships: Guillermo/Nandor the Relentless (What We Do in the Shadows TV), Laszlo Cravensworth/Nadja, laszlo x nadja x multiple people lol
Comments: 81
Kudos: 187





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, okay so...FIRST OFF, as noted in the tags, I am -not- a native Spanish speaker. I've been studying it for years, taught ESL, and grew up speaking/hearing it, however as I don't consider myself fluent and don't speak it often enough, there are BOUND to be some mistakes. Please feel free to correct them and I will go back and edit, as I consider this to be something of a learning experience in that vein as well and I want it to be right. (I was just too eager to get this out to consult a beta beforehand pls don't kill me) I also have decided not to translate the lines in Spanish directly, as I'm hoping there's enough context to know what she's talking about even if you don't know exactly what she's saying. It was an artistic decision, hopefully it works. 
> 
> Also, yes, you saw the tags right. This is going to be something of a crossover with one of my fave guilty pleasures of all time, the 2004 Van Helsing movie with Hugh Jackman. If I could get him in season three I totally would. 
> 
> Anyway, WWDITS doesn't belong to me and I didn't write this for any money (not that anyone would buy it even if I did, HEYYOO)

_“Don’t care what the fuck your name is, we had to pick up our own laundry!”_

Some things never changed. Vampires, specifically. Vampires never changed. Guillermo knew this of course, no one better, although maybe before it was more of a thing he was willing to ignore, to think of as ‘charming’, whatever coping mechanism got him through the 10 years in service to these particular vampires...and, for whatever they were now, they remained with the defense of his own affection, despite himself. 

But the grin he wore now, that Guillermo himself was only partially aware of, spoke to the fact that it wasn’t something he was going to silently tolerate any longer. 

Still, he cut the ropes and set them free, even as they all cacophonied together about the various hardships they’d had to endure since he left. 

“Bodies and blood ALL over the floor!” 

“Candles burning up the bloody walls!” 

“I slipped in a puddle of blood and I’m pretty sure I slipped a disc, which is okay since my chiropractor takes my insurance...you know, chiros get kind of a bad wrap but-” 

“Wow, that sounds rough,” Guillermo said finally, still catching his breath. “I guess you’re all just going to have to find some good new familiars.” 

Nadja and Laszlo were, predictably, perturbed at his ‘lack of respect’, still under the impression that he had some obligation to remain subservient. Colin was squinting at him through the stage lights glinting off his glasses. 

And Nandor...well. Nandor was a bit of a harder read, either because his face just normally skewed up into that sort of blank, duck-lost-in-the-ocean type look when Guillermo ‘spoke above his station’, or...due to the fact that looking at him longer than necessary was a lot harder than clearing the room of vampires.

“You’re going to _let_ him talk to us like that?” Laszlo challenged Nandor, to which the latter vampire paused a moment, eyes cast down to the floor, and explained with an uncharacteristic sense of realization, “I don’t...tell him what to do anymore.” 

Guillermo had heard his (former) Master in many moments of grief, frustration, disappointment, knowing how inclined he was to treat these situations with the highest amount of drama possible, as well as the least amount of emotional maturity and depth of anyone else. Even so, his tone now was...sincerely broken. Whatever the both of them had been clawing to hold on to was gone despite either of their best efforts. 

And there was a sense of grief in that, of course, one Guillermo hadn’t fully processed yet. But things happen. The universe had a way of inserting itself between people, situations, and even the mighty undead, the ferocious vampire hunter, had no power, no control.

They’d seen him rise from the bodies of the vampire underworld’s elite, like some kind of warrior phoenix in a trenchcoat. He’d felt it firsthand. Things had changed. 

“So, this...is really the end of the line then?” Colin ventured, and it was probably the first time Guillermo had seen him express a _sincere_ sense of regret. 

“For me…? And...this?” A finger waved between him and the group. “Yeah...yeah, I think so…” 

“You saw him slaughter the entire theater, Colin!” Nadja hissed, incredulous. “ _Of course_ it’s the end of the line, we can’t have a homicidal maniac living in the house! I bet he’s been gnashing his teeth at us when we haven’t been looking, all this time…!” 

Guillermo narrowed his eyes. 

“That’s...probably a more fitting description for a _vampire_ ? And, if you hadn’t noticed, I _just_ saved you.” 

“Saving us for later then!” Nadja desperately offered in explanation, which she must have realized on some level was as weak as it was ineffective. 

“He _did_ get us out of a very tight spot, my darling,” Laszlo chimed in. “And for that act of charity we will _not_ kill him, for being what he is. But if he were to ever grace our doorstep again…” 

This might have been the part of the conversation where Laszlo made his usual throat-cutting ‘WHIIEECK’ noise that Guillermo had come to know so well, but before he even had a chance to prepare his hand for the gesture,

“I’d _really_ like to see you try.” 

As much a warning as it was a threat, maybe also a challenge. If Laszlo really wanted to prove his mettle, after all...Guillermo was the least fond of him. There was also a bit of curiosity here to see how said vampire would react to such a questioning of his honor and abilities, but Laszlo’s stupidity only ran so deep. 

“Well...cast a shadow upon my threshold and we shall find out!” Laszlo’s voice wavered a bit. “Come along then everyone, I think our time here has come to a natural conclusion.” 

Nadja was keen to follow him out and Colin did the same, even as he lingered a bit in interest, staring at where Guillermo and Nandor beheld each other awkwardly- no doubt licking his chops for whatever emotional watershed was about to take place. 

“Nandor…?” Laszlo called out behind him in expectation. 

“I’ll...be along soon! Just need a moment!” 

Something that the others did not, could not understand, but shrugged in resigned accession before drifting their way out the back exit door. To them, Guillermo was still a lowly human servant and, even worse, one that slaughtered vampires. That scene of power and force against an onslaught hadn’t changed their perspective in any real way, but neither had he expected it to. 

And...nor did he really care, if he was honest. The one vampire for whom Guillermo still held a bit of emotional trepidation was standing before him now. They didn’t speak to each other until it was just them, the spotlights, and the piles of bodies. 

“You...really can’t come back now.” Nandor broke the silence with a mention of the obvious, perhaps at a lack of anything else to say. To anyone else it might have seemed on brand for his usual obliviousness, but Guillermo heard the sense of newfound understanding that he had moments before. Was it the first time his former master was seeing and...accepting him for what he was?. 

Then again...it was Guillermo’s first time really _getting it_ as well. 

“No,” he agreed. “And I...wouldn’t want to even if I could.” 

Nandor threw up his hands, but his tone wasn’t angry so much as it was...helpless? “Well, what-...what did I do wrong this time? I did everything you asked, I tried to be nicer, I offered you the upstairs room-” 

“ _Nandor_ .” Guillermo halted him with a definitive tone that felt foreign. “It’s-...it’s not about you. It’s not about anything you’ve done or haven’t done. _For once_ , my life doesn’t revolve around you.” 

“So this, it’s-...it’s a phase? A rebellion against me?” 

Any relief Guillermo was granted at thinking maybe Nandor was starting to understand was immediately ripped away. 

“No. Again, it’s _not_ about **you**. It’s about me.” 

Nandor still seemed thoroughly confused, apparently ready to accept that he and his former familiar had reached an impassable crossroads but still too dense to understand why. 

Guillermo sighed. “Remember the DNA tests? I found out I’m a...descendant of Van Helsing, the most notorious-” 

Nandor hissed and backed up a bit. “I _know_ who he is! Fucking guy was one of the reasons we came to the new world!” 

“Well, yeah. He’s my...I don’t know, great-great grandfather or something. And that’s one thing on its own, I didn’t think anything of it, figured it was just a big coincidence, but...I have this talent. I have this _urge_. It’s only gotten stronger. I tried to fight it, but...at the end of the day, this is obviously a personal journey I’m going to have to take.” 

The two of them naturally lifted their gazes to the bodies strewn about the theater, and maybe also in that time Nandor put together the little murderous vignettes from the act that had seemed otherwise irrelevant before. 

“Do you...want to kill _me_ , then?” he asked, but it was less a demand for an answer as it was a meek, disbelieving little plea. 

Guillermo hesitated to answer, because the first thing that came to mind was, ‘Well, yeah, sometimes’ and that didn’t seem a fitting reply in a moment that was so raw. And anyway, it wasn’t like he wanted to _really_ kill him, just in the sense of finding himself so annoyed or angry and simply wanting Nandor to shut up or...whatever the situation called for. Situations that didn’t matter now. 

“No,” he answered after a time. “I want you to live and...be happy. And maybe clean up the house a bit, because it’s a fucking nightmare.” 

Nandor nodded in grudging acceptance and then another beat of uncomfortable silence passed. 

“Then...I guess...this is...really-...”

“Goodbye. Yeah.” 

Guillermo stuck out his hand, sort of on instinct. The tension of the moment had gotten so thick and, truth be told, it was all he could do to keep the tears pressing on his eyes at bay. The complexity of their history and the confusion of where they stood now made it somewhat impossible to know what the right gesture would be. 

A handshake was so informal. Almost cold. But Guillermo wouldn’t attempt a hug or some such thing after so many rejections. 

Even so, Nandor stared at his hand for a moment like he’d never seen one before in his life. 

“Uhh...I don’t-...” 

“It’s okay, forget it.” Guillermo dropped said hand and attempted a feigned smile to try to give the impression this was _all_ fine, it didn’t even really matter anymore that Nandor was so keen to turn away from any affectionate gesture from him. Or, at least, it _shouldn’t_ have mattered, so there was no point giving any indication of his hurt or offense. 

“See you around, Nandor.” Although he knew he wouldn’t. 

He was halfway across the theater and almost to the exit door on the right before Nandor called out, 

“Is this about becoming a vampire? I could...do it right now, if you wanted! I know it took a long time before, but-” 

“No,” Guillermo threw over his shoulder. “It’s not about that.” 

The real answer was so much more complex, but Guillermo didn’t have it in him to try to spar with Nandor over that anymore. He didn’t think he had it in him to keep talking to him at all. 

The tears were a bit more free-flowing by the time he’d left the building, shoved his hands into his pockets, and started back towards the station for home. No one would wonder on the D train why he was covered with blood and viscera. 

* * *

  
  


Living with his mother wasn’t terrible. It came with its own collection of annoyances, of course, some of which he’d have to get used to again...like her noisily filling the dishwasher in the early hours of the morning, but then, at least they were both sharing responsibility for the functionality of the apartment which was more than he could say for his former roommates. She hadn’t been pushing him to get a job or anything yet either, which he appreciated as his mind was too preoccupied to think about the whole interviewing process and how on earth he’d make his resume palatable for the average employer. 

The documentary crew voiced their interest in still having him be a feature of the project, asked if they could maybe come check in once a week or so. Guillermo didn’t think he’d have much to show in the vein of the project’s focus and he was more than a little eager to keep a distance between himself and the...people he knew on Staten Island, but as he was getting paid a small amount for appearing in these talking heads he decided he’d keep doing it. Make something up that might be of interest, but would probably never make the final cut. 

It took some weeks for him to work up the courage to start asking her questions. The first night he attempted was strategically chosen, as he was already helping her with the dishes from dinner. 

“Mamá…”

She hummed in acknowledgement while he stared, hesitant, at a dish he was drying just a bit too long perhaps. 

“Do you know anything about...a Van Helsing family...like, the name, or-...”

He didn’t really know what to expect from bringing this up, maybe a look of confusion and then a shrug because it had only been a small percentage of his genetics, after all. Probably from some distant, distant cousin no one remembered? Maybe at least she’d have some kind of family tree information that could shed light on this. 

What Guillermo did not expect from his mother was a slowly dawning grimace of horror and realization. 

“...¿cómo sabes tú sobre eso?” 

She spoke as if he’d just brought up the names of a secret organized crime ring or some such thing, with the lowering of the voice and the piercing look into his eyes. 

“I...I did a DNA test. I just thought it was interesting we had a small percentage of Dutch ancestry. I looked up the name and-...” 

Guillermo’s explanation died on his tongue as his mother was crossing herself, then leaning against the kitchen counter and sighing. 

“Esperaba que no lo descubrieras.” 

“Okaay...I don’t-...understand…?” As much as he wanted to know more, prod and beg her for more information, this was obviously a very sore and uncomfortable topic to be gracing. That may have made it all the more intriguing, but Guillermo didn’t like causing his mother undue stress. “You know what, let’s just forget I said anything. Olvídalo, Mamá…” 

She shook her head in a way that never left room for any further argument. 

“No, no. Dame un segundo, siéntate.” 

She gestured vaguely to the living room and then moved off to her own bedroom as if she’d been asked to produce tax forms. Guillermo could only trust that whatever she felt compelled to show him was important, that no matter how much it visibly irked her it was something she knew he had to see. Also, there was only so much negotiating he could do when his mother had her mind set on something, so...sit and wait he did, there in one of the chairs in the living room. 

She came back after a few minutes, carrying a weathered, wooden box in her hands that looked like something they should have had assessed on _Antiques Roadshow_. 

“What’s this…?” he asked, concerned and a little bit nervous as she pushed said box into his lap. 

“Fotos. Las cartas antiguas. Aquí está toda la historia de nuestra familia.” 

Photos and old letters sounded innocent enough, Guillermo couldn’t imagine his mom would keep an actual pandora’s box in her house after all. He therefore opened it up, and for the next hour or so the two of them enjoyed time pouring over old black and white photographs from Mexico, letters written between relatives (some of them romantic!), stories she remembered being told about ancestors that were now long gone. 

He had almost entirely forgotten about the Van Helsing thing, grateful as he was to be having this time with her again. The swift reminder came when they got to the very bottom of said box, scraped out an old, crumpling, heavily wrinkled daguerrotype of what appeared to be a small family. 

“Ah, ahí está.” 

She passed it over to him after verifying. Again, the photo was fairly damaged, but the visages of a mother, father and two children were there. And the father...it was difficult to describe how piercing his gaze was even in a badly kept, very old photograph. Guillermo could also still make out several scars on his cheek, forehead. 

“Is this-...?”

Guillermo’s mother glanced up at him, warningly, and then nodded. 

“Sí, Van Helsing. El Diablo.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guillermo does research and the writer struggles with exposition and set up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm ngl, this was, at times, a fairly boring chapter to write because it's one of those that has to set up and build the intrigue yet to come. Necessary, but not super exciting. Hopefully yall find some enjoyment in it tho. 
> 
> Also, just want everyone to bear in mind that Guillermo/Nandor is the endgame of this story, but I may have side flirtations (or more) happen for either or both of them in the course of the slow burn. Just throwing it out three.

No one quite remembered what his first name was and no surviving piece of evidence that he had existed contained any record. Between a few seldom artifacts and his mother’s memory of stories that had been passed down over the generations, Guillermo had pieced together that ‘Van Helsing’ was a man who had shown up in a certain Spanish village, almost 150 years ago. The story went that he’d been covered in blood, wounded, and in possession of ‘strange weapons’ that no one present at the time could see being of any logistical use. He had also reported to have forgotten large gaps of time in his memory, recalling only his name - or, rather, the one he had chosen to use. 

Despite all this, he was also quite handsome and rugged, with eyes that seemed able to ‘read one’s soul’, and had a calm, charming disposition. It made sense, perhaps, that he would catch the eye of Maria Villanueva Salazar, Guillermo’s great-great grandmother. Their romance was a bit of a whirlwind, and before long they’d been married in a private ceremony and Maria was pregnant with their first child. As this wedding went against the wishes and command of Maria’s family, the two of them were quietly exiled to raise their children in the countryside. 

Maria hadn’t minded this, his mother said, as she was so in love and so grateful for the chance to begin her life alongside him. Four years passed, two children were born...and one life-changing morning, Maria would wake up to find him gone. She’d never see him again, and only a hastily scribbled note was left to explain his departure. 

Guillermo’s mother claimed she couldn’t verify what exactly the note had said (as Maria had long since burned it), but the family story usually summed it up as something short and ineffective like, ‘Lo siento, mi vida’. He’d said nothing in response to this, even as a shiver of uncomfortable familiarity coursed up his spine. 

Shock became grief, grief became anger, then confusion, bitterness. Confessions from Maria at this time (that may have been fueled by these conflicting emotions and a need for some kind of vengeance) revealed strange behaviors from her husband that she had kept to herself during the time of their marriage; paranoia, odd avoidance of certain people without explanation, long periods of time spent staring wordlessly at his odd weapons, even howling at the moon on several occasions. These stories and Van Helsing’s heartless, sudden departure from his young family sparked belief that perhaps he hadn’t even been human, perhaps his motives had been rooted in something far more nefarious and supernatural.

Thus, as time went on and ancestors immigrated to Mexico during the Spanish Civil War, talk of the mysterious relative became less frequent. Many in the family felt it brought misfortune to say his name or acknowledge that he had once existed, but if anyone were to dare step over that line they’d know exactly what to call him so as to remind the family what sort of danger they’d been in, to remind every De La Cruz not be led astray by dark, beguiling things. 

_ El Diablo _ . The shadowy figure that stood in the unsettling forefront of their family’s history. 

After pressing the old photo back in the dusty bottom of the box, Guillermo’s mother sealed it shut and told him now that he knew, there was no reason to ask or think about any of this further. He promised her he wouldn’t which...was only a  _ partial _ lie, as he definitely wouldn’t be burdening  _ her _ about it any further. 

Instead he took to Google, as anyone does in such a situation, and began spending his new inordinate amounts of free time to continue research. 

Family tree and ancestry type websites were expensive, and the ‘Van Helsing’ message boards didn’t reveal much beyond what he already knew (that and endless threads regarding family reunion barbeque plans). Still, it was interesting to see that this hadn’t been the only family to know about the missing patriarch, to have tales about his disappearance that existed like folklore passed from generation to generation. There were even some late 90’s, early 00’s angelfire-type webpages set up to tell the story of the man known as ‘Van Helsing’ that had appeared and disappeared after a few years in different parts of Europe. 

Perhaps the strangest thing about that was the timestamps on these occurrences, the last report recorded on said ancient webpage being in 1984. But surely it couldn’t have been the  _ same _ person? There was no way his great-great grandfather would’ve been alive that long, much less moving about and giving people reason to record a sighting of him. 

Having been left with more questions than answers, Guillermo realized he needed to try another resource. As fortune would have it, said resource existed just underneath his fingertips. 

But then, he and the Mosquito Collectors of the Tri-State Area hadn’t spoken since Derek’s assumed death and he wasn’t sure it’d be appropriate to try to pick their brains about this. On the other hand though... _ fuck it _ , there were things that needed to be resolved. 

“Hey man, how’s it going?” 

Claude’s voice sounded like a drooping tent being held up by two flimsy poles, billowing helplessly in a harsh wind. He hadn’t forgotten or forgiven himself for what happened to Derek. For that reason, Guillermo knew it was nothing short of a miracle that he had actually answered his FaceTime call. 

“Pretty good...pretty good. Can’t complain. Same usual stuff.” 

“I hear that. Glad to know you’re doing okay.” 

Guillermo worried his lip between his teeth, debating whether or not it was a good idea to push forward with this. 

“Look, I uh...I had a quick question for you. Something I thought you might...know a bit about?”

Claude chuckled. “Well, I don’t know much about a lot of stuff, but you’re free to ask.” 

“It’s, uh-...it has to do with, y’know... _ hunting _ .” Guillermo winced. 

Claude’s reaction was about how he had anticipated, sighing and wiping his hand over his brow maybe to try to shake away those memories that still wracked him with guilt. 

“I don’t mean to be rude, but the thing is...I don’t know that I can really talk about any of that stuff anymore. It’s too dangerous. I don’t know what we thought we were doing.” 

Guillermo sympathized with him, of course. It was never easy to share in the experience of having been there when someone innocent died, but...Guillermo was also more desensitized to death than most and his eagerness to move forward in this search for knowledge was taking precedence over his compassion. 

“I know. What happened that night was horrible. But I-...I can’t stop. I’ve tried, and I-...it’s like the universe wants this for me, I can’t really-...” He laughed a bit, nervous. “Sorry. That probably sounds  _ really _ weird…” 

It 100% did sound weird, he knew. To  _ most _ people, anyway, but Claude was far from the average person. 

“No, not weird at all,” the other man assured. “I mean, if anyone was destined for this, it’s you. You’re the reason _ any  _ of us got out of that house in one piece.” 

He seemed to be regarding Guillermo with a newfound sense of admiration, and being that Guillermo wasn’t used to this sort of look or praise he found himself coughing awkwardly, then trying to trundle the conversation forward. 

“So, if it’s okay, I just have this quick question...it has more to do with the  _ history _ of hunting, I think, if that helps at all. I mean, I figured anyone as involved in this as you’ve been would know the name ‘Van Helsing’.” 

Claude’s eyes went wide, maybe with a bit of excitement as well as surprise. 

“Hell yeah, I know that name. First thing anyone new to the fold had to learn.” 

Guillermo paused. “Why didn’t... _ I _ learn anything about him then?” 

“Well, we kinda jumped in guns-ablazing because we only had so much time when you showed up. Also, I mean...I guess we figured anyone who could fire a crossbow that well must have already known everything.” 

_ More than I’m going to let on _ , Guillermo thought to himself. 

“So...I know about the character in Stoker’s novel, but-” 

Claude rolled his eyes and shook his head, someone on the verge of the lengthy explanation Guillermo had been hoping for. 

“No, no, no. Like, that depiction is  _ fine _ and obviously it’s part of an important piece of literature, but that was a pretty derivative take on a credible mystery. The name was flying around even then and Stoker made him a Professor of vampires or some shit that just got swept up in the slaying because he had to, because it worked for his setting, and  _ whatever _ . Fine, but not really accurate.” 

An important piece of literature was a bit of an understatement, Guillermo thought, as the novel had been a hyperfixation of his for most of his preteens and remained one of his favorite books to this day. But then, that didn’t mean it was accurate and that Claude was wrong. 

“Okay, so...who was he really?” 

“I think you mean ‘who  _ is _ he’, because that motherfucker’s still around, mark my words.” 

Guillermo tried not to make his doubt too obvious on camera. 

“But, I’ve-...found accounts of him dating back to the late 1800’s. There’s no way he could still be-” 

“Alive? Dude, you and I  _ both _ know it’s 100% possible he could’ve been kicking it this long.” 

That retort sent yet another one of those skin-crawling shivers over his body, making the hair on his arms stand on end, because, yes, of course it was possible. The fact that he hadn’t accepted that possibility yet meant he was letting his bias (and maybe fear) cloud his practicality. 

“You-...think he might be some kind of immortal?” 

“There’s  _ a lot _ of different theories,” Claude explained, relaxing back against his pillows. “Not enough to prove anything in regards to explaining his long lifespan, unfortunately. What we  _ do _ know is that he’s seen maybe about...every 10 to 20 years or so, usually after reports of a supernatural encounter or something like that. Some people think that’s just a coincidence, but others -like me- have noticed a pattern. It’d be stupid to assume they’re not related.” 

Claude then linked him some highly-specific sites and message boards, links that were apparently so esoteric even the first four pages of his google search hadn’t revealed them. Nevertheless here it was, pages upon pages (that were formatted similarly to the old geocities ones he’d found earlier) of deeply dug theories, sightings, stories. As long-held mysteries had a way of evolving far past the truth, Guillermo knew he’d need to sift through all this information carefully and weed out anything a bit too outrageous to be true (which was relative, it seemed, where this was concerned). 

Claude did manage to narrow down his point of focus, however. 

“If you’re really interested in this, you might keep an eye on what folks are saying about Bucharest. Some really, shady, suspicious stuff has been going on there lately and we’ve been hearing about people saying they’re seeing him again. There’s an IG account with some snapchat videos I linked you, go check ‘em out.” 

Guillermo promised he would, just as Claude had another breakthrough and chimed in again, 

“Wait, have you tried a library or some place with local historical records? Most of this city was settled by the Dutch, I bet there were some Van Helsings that landed here. Might be able to find some more info that way.” 

He had to admit, it was an untapped lead that might have been worth his time to explore, as archaic and useless as he assumed it would be before. Worth a try anyway, right? 

“Claude, you’ve been so unbelievably helpful, thank you  _ so _ much,” Guillermo gushed with no small amount of palpable relief for how much this conversation had helped him. He knew it would be worth it to make the call. 

“Yeah, yeah, no problem, any time,” Claude assured him, but didn’t seem as eager to bring the call to a natural conclusion. “You know, I realize things have been weird since...what happened, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to see you anymore. Been missing you since our meetings stopped.” 

Guillermo huffed out a humble laugh, figuring it was just a polite gesture. “Yeah, totally, same. We should try to do something soon.” 

Not really meaning that sincerely- it was something one told people they sort of knew and enjoyed, but not a promise either person intended to keep. 

“What’re you doing this weekend? Maybe I can buy you a drink or dinner or something.” 

Guillermo paused, wondering if it was just imagination and possible nervousness that was making him misinterpret. Either way, he’d never seen someone propose a meet-up like that with such confidence and even...dare he say it, swagger. 

But he knew better than to take it as anything other than a friend trying to connect with another friend. Not that he had time or headspace to consider any other possibilities right now. 

“Oh, this weekend, gosh, I-...I am just, like-... _ so booked _ . My mom wanted to go see this movie and-” 

“Hey, no worries. We’ll set up something later then, yeah? Don’t be a stranger, Memo, text me anytime. It’s real nice to hear from you.” 

Guillermo assured him he would, then hung up and agonized for a moment about why he thought it’d be a good idea to use his mother as an excuse.

Then he began to wonder to himself why it mattered. 

Then he decided  _ all _ of those thoughts were too confusing and uncomfortable, and set to work instead looking for a viable library. 

* * *

  
  
  


A portion of the camera crew requested to accompany him on the journey to the historical research library, assuring him it would be of interest to the focus of the documentary. As he had already decided, Guillermo agreed to this and tried not to fixate too much on the awkwardness of being, once again, in a situation that had started in the house on Staten Island. He resisted the urge to ask about the others. About Nandor- perhaps especially, Nandor. 

They’d probably found someone else to take care of things now, anyway, he figured, someone completely useless but much more lovable than he had ever been- like Topher, maybe. Or maybe they’d have to run through a few at first, being that the familiar lifespan wasn’t very long on average. 

Either way, it wasn’t his problem anymore. He kept this up as something of a mental mantra when he found himself wondering about things like whether or not they were keeping up with the boards on the windows, or if they had ever patched that one hole in the wall, or if they had ever fixed that one sink with the drip-...

No, no. Not his problem. Not his business. 

“So, we’re on our way to the Research Library,” he explained to the cameras as they walked, well-aware and comfortable now with how this process worked. “I’ve been doing some digging into the, uh...the ‘slaying’ part of my background, and I’ve found out some interesting things. I guess I just need...some answers, some more understanding of where this is all coming from-...” 

His camera-friendly, upbeat tone gradually died on his lips as out from a nearby storefront came...Colin Robinson. 

As he hadn’t seen them yet, Guillermo made a ‘cut the cameras’ sort of gesture, started walking the other way, tried to put his head down and become unnoticeable, but it wasn’t like Colin not to have a nose for the unbearably awkward. 

“Hey! Gizmo!” 

His former housemate was gleefully jogging over to them as Guillermo realized the futility of the situation and muttered a small, “...fuuuck…” before turning around. Colin might have wanted a sumptuously uncomfortable conversation dictated by himself, but Guillermo was going to do his damndest to make sure it was the opposite. 

“Colin Robinson!” Guillermo exclaimed with overt enthusiasm, lifting his arms out to initiate a hug. 

Colin’s grin fell and he stepped back a bit. “Whoa...that’s okay…” 

His rejection and subsequent confusion had been exactly what Guillermo intended. 

“So!  _ Crazy _ seeing you all the way out here, what’re you in the Bronx for?” 

“Uh...there’s this...gum I really like,” Colin stumbled to manufacture on the spot. “They only sell it at this one bodega, so…” 

“You chew gum? I didn’t realize that was a thing for you.” 

Colin narrowed his eyes and replied maybe a bit too defensive, “ _ Sometimes _ . When I feel like it.” 

Guillermo just nodded and smiled like this was some pleasant, completely benign fact he was learning and not a blatant lie. 

“Are you-...don’t you want to, you know...ask me about the others?” Colin prodded after a time. 

Knowing full-well Colin was attempting to launch another awkwardness missile, Guillermo just casually shrugged. 

“Yeah, sure! How’s everyone on Staten Island? Probably going out to theaters and parties and having the time of their lives, right?” 

Colin’s face drew grim. “Actually, they’re all dead.” 

The producers took care to capture Guillermo’s face drain into a shade of alarmingly pale. Had the Vampiric Council finally caught up to them? Was slaughtering an entire theater of them not enough to stop the hunt? Oh god, oh god, oh  _ fuck _ …

Colin let him linger in this moment of distress for awhile before chuckling and patting him on the back. “Oh gosh, I wish you could see the look on your face! I’m just giving you guff, they’re fine. Well... _ most _ of them are fine. Nadja and Laszlo are fine. Nandor, eh...not so much, but we think he’ll probably bounce back in a few years time.” 

Guillermo sent a sideways glance to the cameras, shifted his weight between his feet and debated with himself on the urge to ask further. Of course, that was exactly what Colin wanted. 

  
“Well, that sounds _ great _ . Glad everyone’s doing great. Anyway, it was fun catching up, but I’ve got an appointment, so I’ll just be-” 

He motioned around Colin, the opposite direction from which he came, but that didn’t stop the energy vampire from pushing a bit harder. 

“Looks like we’re going the same way!” he chirped, earning a look of ire from Guillermo into the nearest camera and a not so soft mumble of, ‘no we fucking weren’t’. “D’you mind if I tag along, actually, I’ve got nothing to do with myself for the next few hours. Where ya headed?” 

Guillermo huffed out an irritated laugh. “Kinda feel like you’re going to either way, so...yeah, sure. I’m just going to a library.” 

He realized the mistake the second after telling the truth, because Colin hummed in agreement and smacked his lips like he’d just had a gourmet sandwich described to him. 

* * *

  
  


Colin was busy lamenting to one set of cameramen that this was a research library and, therefore, not really bustling with drainable targets...or much of any target at all, when Guillermo was sitting down to pour over the recorded histories of Van Helsings in New York. 

“You guys knew he would be there, didn’t you?” Guillermo sighed to  _ his _ group of producers in a terse whisper. “Probably told him? Real cool, guys, very slick. Listen, do that again? And I’m not part of this anymore. That’s a promise.” 

Needless to say, Guillermo’s tolerance for bullshit had depleted quite a bit since first picking up a wooden stake. 

An hour or so passed without any incident, either positive or negative. Most of the information found in the records were business as usual; boat arrivals, deaths and marriages, births, how much wheat some ancestor had bought 400 years ago, and so on. Colin also seemed to be amusing himself on the energy of the librarian, which bought Guillermo some time of uninterrupted focus, useless as it may have been. 

Eventually though, the sustenance of an already weatherworn 70 year old failed to deliver a satisfying meal, and Colin was sauntering over to Guillermo’s table. 

“What’re you researching, anyway?” he pushed, sitting down next to him just to lean over, press his elbow into Guillermo’s and intrusively peer at the literature in front of him. “Ooo, ancestry type stuff, huh? I’m a bit of a genealogy connoisseur, myself. Well, insomuch that I like to make up complicated family tree histories and get into long, involved diatribes where I try to explain-” 

“I am paying by the  _ hour _ to be here,” Guillermo snapped back, but at least with a wan, forced smile. “Not to be dessert for you.” 

That kind of retort probably wouldn’t have made a difference, say, a year ago...or even a month ago, but Colin had been there to witness the theater massacre after all. As such, said energy vampire just clicked his tongue and said, “Ooo okay... _ touchy _ …” 

Even so, this didn’t stop him from pouring over the yet untouched research materials, but Guillermo allowed it, figuring it was better to keep him occupied...and not really expecting that he would  _ find _ something. 

“Geez, I wonder what a…’kresnik’ is-...is that a Dutch word? A...a Spanish word…?” 

Guillermo didn’t think much of it, irritated as he already was. 

“It’s definitely not a Spanish word,” he sighed, massaging his brow. “Maybe Dutch. I don’t know, I don’t speak it.” 

“Jan has been in the throws of the ‘kresnik’ call,” Colin read from whatever piece of paper he’d found in the pile. “Though I know you would say otherwise, I have seen it firsthand. He is a Van Helsing, Hendrik. The offering must be made.” 

Feeling his interest more than a bit peaked, Guillermo leaned over to read more. 

“Well, the whittling wood into stakes thing isn’t so bad,” Colin commented on the symptoms listed. “That was probably common back then, but the showing up covered in blood stuff...I’d probably be looking into change of address forms.” 

Guillermo snatched the copy of the letter from Colin’s hands without any to-do, scanned over what he thought he’d read just make sure it was...what he had  _ really _ read. Sure enough, there it was, in plain, translated English; an ancestor writing to her husband regarding the behavior of her son that was almost exactly like…

He made a quick note of the word ‘kresnik’ in his phone, then packed all the research back into place as carefully as he knew how under the urgent circumstances. 

“Wait, you’re leaving already…?” Colin, of course, still apparently eager to see what his chances were of getting a nibble. 

Guillermo tossed his messenger bag over his shoulder. “Yeah. I’ve got what I need.” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All roads lead to Romania.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another sorta narrative-bridging chapter, this one, but we're starting to get into the good meat of things. Enjoy? I hope?

Nandor was on something of what they called an ‘emotional rollercoaster’, and while that might have sounded like a tantalizing treat for one who was an energy vampire, it instead had the opposite effect. Colin thought of this sort of emotional oscillation like how sweets were for humans; delicious at first, but eat too much and you’ll be left with low energy, a stomachache and no real nutritional intake. In fact, sometimes it seemed like Nandor had finally figured out how to drain  _ him _ , carefully done through days of manic energy bursts and a determination to forget his familiar ever existed...and then the days that would follow just after of him never leaving his coffin and playing old sad songs on the gramophone. Some days Nandor could be found splayed over the entirety of a sofa, groaning and whining out his heartbreak while Colin attempted to enjoy the newspaper. 

That was their current situation, soundtracked by a scratchy record playing ‘It Could Happen to You’ by Jo Stafford. 

“I did everything he asked for...is there something wrong with me? Is it a ‘me’ problem?” 

Colin would sometimes relent with an idle, “uh hu, yep that sucks, don’t ask me…” and so on, though he wasn’t remotely listening. 

“Colin...if you were Guillermo...what would someone have to do to try to get you back…?” 

The question was unbearably stupid, of course, and he had no intention of answering it as he barely knew anything about Guillermo...that was, until, Nandor had managed to lean over far enough to start tugging on his pant’s leg and whining his name over and over until he relented. 

“The heck are you asking  _ me _ for?” Colin snapped back, shaking himself free. “Guillermo and I didn’t exactly have matching BFF bracelets. 

“Colin, please…” Nandor begged, as pathetic as he knew how to be. “For once, don’t be a prick.” 

Nandor was really pushing the limits of his patience, whether he realized it or not. A more self-aware Colin might have realized that was due after decades and decades of him doing the exact same thing to the whole house, but instead…

“What do you  _ want _ me to say?” He threw up his hands. “He’s a vampire hunter, you’re a vampire. Doesn’t exactly seem like a match made in heaven, does it? You really want him to come back here and eventually rip your head off or something?” 

“Guillermo would  _ not _ harm me…” But Nandor’s look of dismayed uncertainty at the ceiling said otherwise. 

Colin tutted and muttered not as silently as he had intended, “He probably doesn’t have much of a choice if that ‘kresnik’ thing is any indication…” 

Nandor swung himself up to a sitting position. 

“‘Kresnik’ thing? The  _ fuck _ are you talking about??!?” 

Had he said it with some sort of intention of Nandor hearing? He had lived with the others long enough to know hypersensitive hearing was a thing, whispering and muttering hid nothing, but then...admitting that he’d actually seen Guillermo recently might not be well-received. Colin knew that too. 

“Uh...so, this is-...awkward, but…” 

Colin had just finished folding and putting aside his paper to begin this sheepish explanation, when sounds of a struggle and some screaming could be heard coming from the front lawn. The two in the living room regarded each other for a moment. 

“Laszlo and Nadja fighting again…?” Nandor guessed. “I  _ told _ them not to have their marital squabbles out in public where the neighbors can see…” 

More yelling. Louder signs of struggle. Laszlo and Nadja’s voices heard saying things like ‘unhand me at once!!’. 

Colin narrowed his eyes and the still concealed window. “Yeah, I don’t know about that…” 

The two of them approached said front window carefully, tip-toeing almost, perhaps remembering that the whole house was something of a fugitive hiding spot. Pulling back the curtain just an inch revealed that Colin’s concern was not unfounded; Laszlo and Nadja were, in fact, being apprehended by some shadowy figures, and then yanked up into the sky without a trace. 

A moment of awkward silence ensued before Colin managed, “So...looks like we may be up shit creek without a paddle again…” 

* * *

  
  


Maybe the fact that he didn’t live to serve vampires anymore would mean that Guillermo could catch up on 10 years of lost sleep. For a normal person, that might have been the case and, indeed, it had been his initial hope when moving back in with his mom. Guillermo had a new fixation now, however, one he could only really look into when his mother was asleep and not liable to come into his room asking for laundry or some such thing. 

By 2am on an early morning, not long after his trip to the research library, Guillermo had an idea of what a ‘kresnik’ was and had poured over all the snapchat video sightings Claude had sent to him. 

‘ **_Kresnik/Krsnik-_ ** _ a vampire hunter/shaman who takes the form of animals to defeat vampires. Slavic mythology (?). Origin word may be ‘krst’, which means cross. ‘Kresnik call’ ???’  _

This in particular was scribbled on a piece of paper that hung in the corner of the corkboard he was quickly filling up, as he long ago forgot his concern that the room might start looking like a scene out of  _ A Beautiful Mind _ . 

It had been little more than a stray clue, one he wasn’t sure how to fit into the big mosaic that was starting to make itself known...that is, until he started watching the snapchat sightings. 

Most of the videos had been blurry, shaky, difficult to make heads or tails of as ‘sighting’ videos often went, but there was one in particular, taken at the edges of a forest in Romania, that ended up harkening to the things he had read so far. 

_ The scene starts out shaky, the haggard breath of whoever is filming blows loudly into the volume of the video. They say something in a language he doesn’t recognize, probably Romanian, then they go still as a man appears out of the trees. Running. Running faster than any human should, perhaps.  _ (Guillermo noticed on a few re-watches in, that something large and shadowy could be seen moving alongside him in the treeline)  _ The man is difficult to make out, apart from his large, sweeping leather duster and long dark hair. In a split second, the running man is gone. The person filming lets out a loud, "Vai, Doamne!" and, in the distance, a pale, white wolf shoots into the forest. The video ends.  _

The man disappearing completely was startling enough -given that this was meant to be a sighting of his supposed long deceased ancestor- but after slowing the video down to a few frames per second, Guillermo could see that the man did not disappear at all; rather, he seemed to transform in the blink of an eye to the wolf that appeared in the last few seconds. 

He had to pause a moment, mull this over while examining the Corkboard of Evidence. It didn’t look very different from the one the Mosquito Hunters kept up on their blackboard, the irony wasn’t lost on him, just...not the most important thing on his mind. 

It was becoming more and more evident through this extensive research that only so much was going to be accomplished here- specifically, in New York City. Or the US as a whole, really. So, what was he to do? Continue slaughtering vampires like he was a machine made for the purpose with no clear reason why or...try to find more answers elsewhere? 

The problem was, going elsewhere cost money...money he didn’t yet have. 

Guillermo had taken off his glasses to massage his brow, wondering if the Panera Bread he worked at 10 years ago might take him back...when a knock at the door of the apartment made him jump. 

“Ay, chingada…!” 

There was a whole host of possibility as to who could be knocking on their door that late at night, so Guillermo took care to grab the crossbow he’d hidden from his mom in the closet. 

Carefully he tiptoed down the hallway, to the door, taking care to make sure the light in his mother’s bedroom was still off. She hadn’t heard. Hopefully she wouldn’t hear whatever else might have to take place once he was done investigating. 

He then peered through the spyhole, tentative, his heart pumping so loud he could feel the rhythm in his head. He had taken out an entire theater, he reminded himself. He’d taken down trained assassins. Maybe there was  _ nothing _ that could best him, and no reason to be afraid…

Nope. One fear. Because who should be standing on the front step, his bulbous, pale head enlarged by the spyhole, but Colin Robinson. 

Guillermo sighed loudly as he unlocked the deadbolt, threw open the door. 

“Okay, dude, it’s 2 am. This couldn’t have been a text or like-...?” 

Colin was in the middle of explaining that he didn’t actually have Guillermo’s number, but still had the foresight to ask the producers for his  _ address _ , but Guillermo was tuning all of it out as someone who looked very much like Nandor was idling a short distance away, at the end of the stairs leading up to the unit. 

Unless there were a lot of tall, dark-haired men that wore capes wandering around the Bronx, it definitely was him. 

“...what’s he doing here?” Guillermo asked Colin under his breath, and maybe somewhat through his teeth. 

Instead of replying directly, Colin just threw down the staircase, “Hey Nandor! Jig’s up, he saw you.” 

Meanwhile, down the hallway, his mother’s light shot on and she could be heard cursing as she shuffled into her slippers and robe. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That awkward moment when you and your ex have to go to the same place at the same time to kill some vampires smh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit more set up here, but uh...the boys are back together! Well, in the same room anyway...

Guillermo had obviously been in a lot of nightmarish, seemingly impossible situations in his time, faced with odds that he didn’t think himself capable of overcoming. Most of these situations could be answered with the ‘fight or flight’ response, but when stuck in the small living room of his mother’s South Bronx apartment at 2 am (or maybe it was 3 am now?), surrounded by Colin Robinson, Nandor, and his sleep-delirious mother, there wasn’t much to do but stand there and suffer the consequences of his life choices thus far. 

“Tu novio?” his mother had asked after she had gleaned their guests were  _ not _ home invaders, with a subtle nod to Nandor. 

And to think- Guillermo had genuinely thought this situation couldn’t get worse. 

“No, no, no, no, no…” he assured, waving his hands and shaking his head, pushing her desperately off the path of thinking that he and Nandor were in any way, shape or form, ever romantically involved. “Eso es...eh...mi colega.” 

His mother’s scrutiny towards Nandor became harsher now, perhaps wondering what kind of job her son’d had prior to coming home that would necessitate him working with someone like that. She never asked _ too many _ questions and, for that, he was grateful. 

Nandor must have noticed her glaring, as he made a haphazard attempt to address her. 

“Hello…!” An innocent enough greeting, but coming from Nandor it sounded like he was talking to a child. Guillermo couldn’t decide if that was intentional or just due to his general stupidity. “I am Nandor the Relentless.” 

Another judging stare from his mom, followed by deafening silence. 

“She doesn’t understand English,” Guillermo lied, starting to move her back towards bed. There was some verbal tussle between the two of them about her abilities with English, who these men were and why they were here, whether or not Guillermo was in some kind of trouble, and so on, but eventually he managed to convince her that all was in hand and she needed only to go back to sleep. 

_ Please, please, for the love of God, go back to sleep. _

When Guillermo returned to the front room, he only had one thing to say to his old acquaintances and it was not delivered amicably. 

“Okay. What the  _ fuck _ is going on?” 

Colin and Nandor bristled a little at his harsh tone, and maybe that only made him angrier (but he could only be so loud- his mom  _ was _ trying to get back to sleep). How could they seem  _ surprised _ that he wasn’t happy about this little collision of worlds? Hadn’t he told them this whole thing was done and dusted, over with? As for  _ why _ they were here, Guillermo could only imagine. Maybe they had finally reached a dead-end as concerned the laundry situation and were hoping they might be able to talk him into slowly reassuming his duties, as they couldn’t seem to function otherwise. 

Because, to them, that’s all he was; the monkey butler that took out the trash. Kept the house clean. Removed heavily decomposed bodies. No matter how many of them he slayed, they never seemed to learn the lesson…

Guillermo found himself eying that crossbow he left near the front door...with  _ intent _ . 

“That was your mother, yes?” Nandor asked after an uncomfortable pause that had gone on longer than Guillermo was aware of. “She seemed quite nice...!” 

Colin muttered, “She didn’t even  _ notice _ me…” 

Guillermo looked back from the crossbow to Nandor, recognizing a pleading look in his eyes that he would’ve been too proud to make known any further, but was there nonetheless. He knew it wasn’t wise, but he softened anyway...the crossbow more or less forgotten. 

“Why don’t you guys have a seat...” he sighed, all but plopping himself down on the couch, face in his hands. They must have done so after some point, because when he was done rubbing his hands over his brow and trying to restore whatever reserve of patience he had left, there they were, both sitting opposite of him, Colin looking confused and Nandor, concerned. 

“I don’t normally say this, but I’ll just get right down to it,” Colin began. “We’re in a bit of a pickle, and we didn’t really know where else to go.” 

“I’m not coming back.” Guillermo almost cut Colin off with this preemptive statement. “I don’t know if it’s the dishes or the laundry or the yard- and I don’t care. I’m sorry. I don’t. I thought I already made this  _ clear _ , but-” 

Nandor had stood up, a piece of parchment in his hand, that he then cautiously extended to his ex-familiar. 

“It’s not that…” he said, meek. Maybe even apologetic, but then Guillermo might have just been hopeful. 

Guillermo looked up at him, perplexed, but accepted said piece of paper without further questioning. Unfurling it revealed a short ransom note scrawled out in complex calligraphy, which he read outloud,

_ For too long you have escaped justice for your crimes against vampire kind. How will you fare without a unified group? How will you evade capture without your pet hunter? The Voivode of Wallachia wishes to find out. To see your friends again, climb the frozen steps of Mount Izvorul Călimanului within a fortnight. Face your destiny.  _

“Laszlo and Nadja were taken,” Nandor explained, needlessly, but his voice was downtrodden enough to show that he wasn’t being condescending. “Just this evening. We watched it happen from the front window. It was horrible, really.” 

Colin added, “We weighed the pros and cons of actually going after them, but-...”

Guillermo was holding the note up to the fluorescent ceiling light meanwhile, not really listening. He found what he had been anticipating he might. 

“Yep, there it is.” And so he showed them. “That’s the seal of the Vampiric Council. Sneaky, but...not quite a trap this time, since they’re literally  _ inviting _ you to be impaled on a mountain.” 

Nandor and Colin looked to each other with wide, terrified eyes. 

“Where the  _ fuck _ does it say we’re going to be impaled…??” Nandor demanded to know, to which Guillermo answered with a deadpan pointing at the title ‘Voivode of Wallachia’. 

“That’s Dracula.  _ The _ Dracula. Vlad the Impaler? He’s like...the Father of all Vampires, I can’t be the only one in this room who knows that name…” 

Sure enough he wasn’t, as Nandor clapped his hands against the armrests of the chair he was in and let out one of his usual, ‘ _ Shiiiiiiiit _ ’. 

“Well, all the more reason to be here talking to you,” Colin offered. “You’re the lean, mean vampire fighting machine, after all. Vlad the Impaler? More like...Vlad’s gonna need...an...inhaler! Afteryouredonewithhim!” Clearly very proud of himself that he had made the improvised joke land. 

Colin’s victorious chortling was cut short by Nandor standing up, yet again, and this time stomping his foot on the floor with finality. 

“No! This was a mistake. We can’t ask this of Guillermo. Vlad Tepes founded his reign on blood and death- and this was  _ before _ he became a vampire. He is like nothing we have come across before. He will take Guillermo and tie him into an attractive little bow and use him to decorate gifts!” 

Colin and Guillermo stared at him a moment, each in their own ‘what the fuck’ fueled reverie, before the latter of the two found his voice. 

“Have you actually... _ met _ him before?” 

Nandor deflated a little. “Well...no, he lives on a secluded mountain in Eastern Europe and never did get out much...but I’ve heard stories!” 

Guillermo scoffed, in doubt. “Yeah, well, I’ve heard ‘stories’ too. They include a counting vampire puppet on Sesame Street and a box of chocolate cereal in my pantry. Is he immune to a wood stake through the heart? Holy water? A crucifix? Because likelihood says  _ one _ of those things is bound to do some damage.” 

“Just for clarification, are you saying you... _ want _ to go kill him?” Colin asked. “Because we...honestly thought you’d drag your feet a bit more. But then, you’re the one thirsty for vampire blood, so who am I to say.” 

“I’m not  _ thirsty _ for-...” he began to correct, but then thought better of it as the reality of things was, once again, too complicated for the situation and the two he was speaking with. 

Also, the pieces in his mind had just come together that this was a location in Romania...one not too terribly far from Bucharest and the areas of the other ‘Van Helsing sightings’. Whether he liked it or not, it was the place  _ he _ needed to be too. 

“How, um...how are you guys planning to get there?” 

Colin and Nandor returned the question with obtuse, blank looks. Guillermo might have guessed they hadn’t planned this far. There was some mixed discussion of options, which obviously included exploring the possibility of vampire flight but then even in his full form Nandor would only be able to support so many others in his arms. Or on his back. Especially on a 12 hour journey. 

Guillermo ventured out a sly, “Well...there  _ are _ airplanes. But tickets across the pond are expensive.” 

“Oh yeah, a plane!” Colin said this as though it had been 50 or so years since he’d seen or even considered one, and that may indeed have been the case. “No worries there, I can get us tickets, no problem.” 

Guillermo looked at him over his glasses. “Me too, I hope. Or I can’t come with you. Not enough money, sorry.” 

“Buy him a ticket, Colin Robinson!” Nandor berated as if Colin had put up a fight against it, when in reality he had said nothing at all. 

Colin grumbled back, “ _ Of course  _ I’ll buy him a ticket! It’s not like I’m going to this creepy mountaintop with  _ just _ Nandor.” 

Some debate involving Nandor’s abilities as a warrior cropped up then, but Guillermo was only mutely aware. This was it, wasn’t it? His chance to go to the one place that might have answers about who he was, what he was meant for, where he had come from, had just fallen neatly into his lap and he _ knew _ that this would plague him the rest of his days if he didn’t take it. 

But then, said opportunity was given by the one group of people he had really been hoping to gain distance from. Being in a close proximity for a long period of time with his ex-master, under the guise of helping them with a rescue mission of Nadja and Laslzo, didn’t really ring conducive with focusing on his fate-ordained path. 

On the other hand, it was either travel with Colin and Nandor soon or take several years time to gather the money himself via odd jobs. 

And something suspicious was happening in Bucharest  _ now _ . Maybe it wasn’t  _ just _ Laszlo and Nadja that needed his help right away. 

“So, it’s settled then,” Nandor announced, breaking him from his train of thought. “Colin will provide the plane tickets and Guillermo will accompany us.” 

Though he’d said this with his familiar, definitive, boss-of-the-house voice heard in so many House Meetings that came before, he still looked to Guillermo with a sense of doubt. Maybe hopefulness in equal measure. 

Guillermo answered this with a resigned smile and nod. “Yeah. I’m coming with you.” Thus the decision was made, for better or worse.

Perhaps even more awkward than spontaneous reunions with people one might have hoped not to see so soon was the goodbyes that followed. Guillermo was certainly beginning to think so, anyway, after escorting his guests to the door, after Colin had already trundled off when Nandor told him he’d ‘just be a moment’. 

Not unlike last time. 

“You’ve been...doing alright then…?” 

Guillermo could read Nandor well, which stood to reason as they’d known and been in rather close, intimate approximation of each other for over 10 years. He knew from the vampire’s body language- the shy, ‘T-rex’ hands as he called them, floating near his chest, the uncertain tone of voice, the flittering eye line- that Nandor understood this situation was delicate. He must have known before, too, given the whole hiding out at the bottom of the stairs thing. 

In fact, it occurred that maybe Nandor believed Guillermo was _ mad  _ at him about something petty he hadn’t figured out yet, that maybe it could all be remedied by doing something very simple, as all the problems between them had gone before. Maybe that’s where this was all going wrong.

“Yeah,” Guillermo replied, still avoiding eye contact, pushing up the bridge of his glasses. “Better than I was, anyway.” 

“So...I know you said you don’t care about being turned anymore…” Nandor heralded this by reaching out and lightly tapping Guillermo’s shoulder, maybe to gain eye contact. As he didn’t normally touch him at all it was a bit alarming, but did accomplish the goal of making him look up. “So, I thought...maybe it was the snacks? I thought you might like the raisins because they looked a bit like small dry poops, so maybe that would be a healthier alternative to-” 

“Nandor, I’m a vampire hunter. I’m a slayer.” 

He said with a finality that suggested he thought that would put an end to Nandor’s inane guesses about why their master-familiar dynamic inevitably fell apart, but of course it didn’t. 

“Yes...I  _ know _ that, I saw you in the theater, I came here because-” 

“Okay, so if you  _ know _ that, why are you trying to make this about something else? I have a need, and a  _ drive _ to kill your kind and I don’t know why, and until I figure that out-...” He laughed tiredly and shrugged, because what was he even doing any of this for? “There’s nothing for me in being a familiar anymore, because...I don’t want to be a vampire anymore. Why would I? I’ve become something else now. Maybe something better.” 

Nandor narrowed his eyes. 

“Something  _ better _ …?” he echoed, but in almost a spat. “So, you think you’re better than me?  _ That’s _ why you left?” 

Guillermo wanted to scream, if doing so wouldn’t earn him the ire of every surrounding neighbor, and the landlord, and his mother. How many different ways was he going to have to explain this before Nandor understood? Frankly, he was tired of trying, and that exhaustion took over to form a reply that was much darker, much more hurtful than any yelled insult would’ve been. 

This time, he stepped closer, looked his former master directly in the eyes. 

“I  _ am _ better than you. I always have been. I’m smarter, I’m stronger, I’m more capable. And what’s more, I actually give a damn.” 

He turned sharp on his heel before having to deal with any of Nandor’s retorts or attempts to drag this argument out longer, muttered something quick about seeing them at the airport, then slammed the door behind him. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys are cleared for take off and will soon be free to move about the cabin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They probably SHOULDN'T have let Colin buy the plane tickets, in hindsight. HMMM.

Being heavily involved in vampire circles meant spending a lot of time awake and active in the unholy hours of the morning. This was something Guillermo had become accustomed to over the 10+ years in service and maybe even grateful to do so in some measure, as it made him feel closer to the kind of being he hoped he’d one day become. Now, however, riding along in an Uber to JFK at 8 pm, about to hop on a 12 hour flight in which he probably wasn’t going to get any sleep at all, it all seemed...very distasteful, and therefore, aggravating. 

Said feeling of ‘distaste’ had been growing steadily in the pit of his stomach for some time, as a matter of fact. Guilt as well, in equal measure. Both were beginning to fuse and become something closer to anger. 

Vampires were looking more and more with each passing day like the disgusting, murderous, ungodly creatures the Mosquito Collectors club had told him they were. Arrogant too. Unconcerned with humanity beyond how humans could either feed or serve them. That need to kill, that need for vengeance was becoming less an act of necessity in tight spots and more something Guillermo...thirsted for. If there was irony in this- hungering for death the same way a vampire does- he didn’t realize it. 

But in remembering all his massacres in an attempt soothe this drive, he also remembered more nuanced moments in the course of his time with vampires. 

For instance, he was forced to recall the time Nandor declared his false guilt in killing the Baron in front of the entire council, all in the interest of not seeing his familiar eaten. He’d doomed himself to certain death for a crime he knew he hadn’t committed, had circumvented an otherwise easy escape just to spare Guillermo’s life. Not so his human could serve, just so he could live another day. 

He was forced to remember the time his former master discovered his murder of Carol and chose to react to this, not with anger or punishment, but in a promise to protect him from the others finding out. The time he pulled Topher off of him before he could drown…

Realizing he’d been aggressively thumbing the crucifix in his pocket this whole time, Guillermo removed his hand. 

It may have been worth taking into consideration, he thought, that he and Nandor’s... _ dynamic  _ was an old one, and very layered beyond just vampire versus vampire slayer. Maybe he’d been too harsh, too cold, in how he had handled all of this thus far, but then again, he had no reason to believe his former master would’ve cared that much. So he believed. 

There wasn’t much time to consider this point further, as it was just around the time his train of thought had gotten to it that the car was pulling up to the crowded international departures line. 

“Leave me 5 stars if you liked the ride!” the driver cheerily called to him, to which Guillermo assured him he would. Even if it had been a nightmare there were more important things to worry about than filing a complaint with a rideshare service anyhow. 

Once inside the airport proper, Nandor and Colin were found waiting for him near the ticket and baggage check counters (as well as a few producers and cameramen, who had agreed to accompany them for the sake of the documentary). More bad news was to follow. 

“So, because I got the tickets last minute,” Colin explained almost as soon as he had walked up to them, before any kind of attempt at a proper greeting. “You and Nandor are going to be sitting next to each other. He’s not too happy about it, figured you wouldn’t be either, but eh, what can you do, it’s a full flight. Also, I was a bit off with the timing, we’ve got about 30 mins to get to the gate. It’s too bad, I could’ve gotten some good feasting in here...” As evidenced by his eyes lighting up an electric blue, while surveying the perimeter. 

Guillermo looked to the baggage check line that was already snaking through the rope and decided he’d be better off finding a space in the overhead compartment. 

“Fine,” he decided, pushing his carry-on handle up his shoulder. “We’d better get moving then, our gate’s on the other side of the airport.” 

Nandor, who’d been making a point of not looking at him or acknowledging his presence (to the extent that it felt more like a direct attack than anything else he might have done) said somewhat abrasively, “No need.  _ I _ can be there in two seconds-” 

He spoke, of course, about the vampiric ability to teleport from one area to the next in the blink of an eye, but Guillermo wasn’t having it. 

“No. No funny business here, it’s an  _ airport _ . We haven’t even cleared security yet and they’re already giving you some weird looks.” 

He didn’t lie, the TSA employees were indeed casting suspicious glances at Nandor, specifically, and some whispered between themselves. Guillermo couldn’t imagine he was the  _ strangest _ thing that ever graced the JFK airport, but nevertheless…

Nandor, in turn, glared down at him but said nothing else in the way of complaints. That was close enough to a victory. 

“Guess the master vampire is hoofin’ it with us then,” Colin chuckled, taking nothing but pure delight in Guillermo and Nandor’s abrasive back and forths. That may have been the entire reason for his coming along in the first place. 

* * *

  
  


Clearing security had been a bit of an exercise in patience, particularly when Nandor had to hypnotize his way out of a few checkpoints and ended up leaving some TSA employees staring dazed, forgetful of their own names, but in the end they had gotten through. Their party was scattered throughout the full-capacity flight, camera men included, and Guillermo was grateful there’d be no recorded evidence of whatever exchange he and Nandor might have in the course of 12 hours beside each other. 

Colin was, suspiciously, seated just behind them. Hard to believe that was a byproduct of necessity. 

After shoving his bag as best he could into the overhead compartment, Guillermo situated himself in the middle seat between Nandor and another unwitting gentleman (but as he already had his headphones secured, it didn’t really matter). Nandor, meanwhile, was pretending to stare with intent at the in-flight magazine, which was a bit unfortunate as they were on a Polish airline. 

“I didn’t know you could read Polish…” Guillermo mentioned after a time, glancing over. Nandor sent him a sideways glare. 

“Yes. It’s one of my  _ favorite _ languages,” he huffed. “I realize you’re not my familiar anymore, but perhaps I could still ask you to be polite enough not to disturb my reading.” 

“How long have you been _ that _ interested in the European Stock Market?” 

Nandor might have at least chosen a spread that wasn’t graph after chart after graph of data that he didn’t care about any further than he’d understand- if he was planning to make this cold shoulder campaign actually  _ work _ , that is. 

“A long time, okay!” he insisted. “I haven’t told you  _ everything _ !” 

Guillermo leaned over to point at a random pie chart. 

“What does _ this _ mean then?” 

Nandor grumbled loudly, slapped the magazine closed, shoved it back into the front pocket, then folded his arms over his chest with an air of pouting that would give any 4 year old a run for their money. 

Guillermo allowed for a polite beat of silence to pass between them before speaking again.

“I know you’re mad at me-” 

“Oh  _ really _ ? What gave it away?!?” 

“...like I was  _ saying _ , I know you’re mad at me. And I get it. I said some things last time we spoke that I shouldn’t have.” 

Of course, that wasn’t the only issue between them and Guillermo would have been intentionally naive to think otherwise...but for the sake of surviving the very, very long flight it had to just be a matter of addressing the immediate problem. Nandor, however, wasn’t as interested in exploring a temporary ceasefire. 

“No, no, it’s already been said. You think you’re better than me. That’s why you left, nothing else matters. It’s  _ fine _ .” He then turned to Guillermo with a newfound sense of reprisal, that accusatory finger pointed in between his eyes. “But never forget this,  _ vampire killer _ . We both have blood on our hands and _ that  _ you cannot scrub away.” 

Guillermo sighed, as this was costing a lot more of his patience than he had intended. But what did he expect, really? 

“You’re right. We’re both halves of the same coin. That’s the truth. But I think what I was getting at then is-...I’m not your familiar anymore. We’re never going back to that point. I need you to understand and accept that.” 

Nandor had now turned his entire body towards the window of the plane, arms still crossed. As they hadn’t taken off yet, the only vision he had to entertain him was the view of trucks being driven back and forth on the tarmac. 

“But maybe,” Guillermo pushed. “We could be  _ friends _ ?” 

Nandor didn’t stir. 

There was an odd temptation here to reach out and touch him, something Guillermo could no sooner explain than understand. Stranger still was a need, a  _ desperatio _ n for him to be receptive because if Nandor did that, if he truly, honestly accepted their new circumstances, there wouldn’t be this need for distance between them. It was something that, if Guillermo was honest, he wished didn’t have to exist. 

But his former master was stubborn to a fault and always had been, so the likelihood of this working out in a way that could make them both happy seemed a far-fetched idea. 

It wasn’t going to stop Guillermo from trying, however. 

“We’ve known each other for over a  _ decade _ ,” he continued to his unyielding target. “I know that’s a brief time for a vampire, but for a human...well, it means something. Maybe I don’t want to think that we have to throw all that away just because things have changed.” 

Another swath of silence, interrupted only by the sound of other passengers pushing and arguing their way to luggage space and seats- a white noise that Guillermo was only vaguely aware of as he waited with baited breath to see what Nandor would say to this. 

Eventually the vampire let out a deep exhale and slumped his shoulders. Guillermo knew it meant he had gotten to him, somewhere. 

“Friends…” he echoed, still not looking directly at his ex-familiar, but somewhat turning his body towards him which was progress. 

“Yeah,  _ friends _ ,” Guillermo replied, his tone more optimistic. “Like you and Las-” 

Remembering that Nandor and Laszlo periodically got each other’s rocks off, Guillermo backed off that comparison. Nadja wouldn’t work either, because the situation was the same;  _ sometimes _ it was all three of them going at each other just for the sake of having a good time. 

“Like you and Colin,” he finally settled on. 

Colin, who had no doubt been snacking on their back and forth behind them this whole time, asked after the mention of his name but both involved ignored it. 

“So, if we were _ friends _ we would….?” 

Though more amenable now, Nandor was lost at this new label to their dynamic, and for that Guillermo didn’t really have license to be mad or frustrated. It was a lot to ask someone to switch overnight from ten years of the same thing to something else entirely different. It would take time and probably a few teething issues before they got it right. 

“If we’re  _ friends _ , that means I’m not your servant anymore. You can’t rely on me for every little thing...and, in turn, I shouldn’t expect to act only on your order.” 

Nandor considered the notion for a moment. 

“...what if I need something?” 

“Then...get it.” 

“What if I need something it’d be easier for  _ you _ to get?” 

Guillermo’s mouth straightened into a thin line. He was trying to be patient and understanding, but as always…

Thankfully this discussion on the particulars of their friendship and how it would work and how to prevent Nandor from rearranging things so they just went back to how they were before was cut short by the announcement that they’d soon be taking off. 

“We’re going to be in the air soon?” Nandor asked, and Guillermo was a bit surprised to hear an edge of fear in his voice (that he was trying to hide, of course). 

“Yeah...” he confirmed, a bit softened now as he always was when his master-...ex-master seemed ill at ease. “Just like you are, all the time.” 

Nandor was gripping the edges of his seat so hard Guillermo could see the indentions of his fingertips in the padded nylon. 

“Yes, just like I am all the time. When I fly. It’s fine. Even though we’re in a big metal cylinder, going higher into the atmosphere than I ever have and all of this is entirely out of my control...it’s fine. I love this.” 

Nandor was never a good liar, but when he was keen to prove a point Guillermo knew better than to intervene. As such, he shrugged his shoulders, put his earbuds in and set his phone to airplane mode. Not his problem anymore. 

He had zoned out a bit by the time the plane was cruising down the tarmac and then, eventually, lifting up off the ground. Having flown to Mexico to visit relatives more times than he could count, this was a process Guillermo was well acquainted with, even the disconcerting bumpiness at take-off. 

Nandor, of course, was not, and his attempts at seeming cool, calm and in control were beginning to unravel...as evidenced by how his hand suddenly gripped into Guillermo’s for dear life, their fingers threaded. 

_ This _ was a new development, one that he supposed he could make fun of or use as ammunition against all the times Nandor had rejected any physical contact between them outside of necessities like getting out of the coffin, etcetera...but alas, Guillermo’s sympathy had overridden any bitter feelings. 

“The turbulence is normal,” Guillermo assured him in a lower voice so that no one else would know he was afraid. “Try looking out the window.” 

Nandor did as he was advised, watching below them as the city began to disappear into the dark night, no more than a series of twinkling lights. 

“Looks a bit like fireflies,” Nandor observed. “Or stars. I’ve never been up this high before.” 

As he seemed more impressed and distracted by the beauty of soaring up at this level than that initial, visceral fear, Guillermo considered his efforts a win. 

“It’s pretty cool, right?” Guillermo encouraged with a slight grin he wasn’t entirely aware of. “The worst part about flying in an airplane is the boredom, trust me. We’re safe.” 

Nandor looked back at him, returning the smile perhaps in gratitude, and in this moment neither of them were conscious of the fact that Guillermo had begun to instinctively rub his thumb over his former master’s knuckles. 

This stayed the case only for a few seconds before both of them realized the unfamiliar position they were in, promptly released each other’s hands, panicked, and looked away in opposite directions of each other. 

Once the seat belt sign had gone off, Colin poked his head over the seats, in between them. 

“Are...you guys done fighting…? Seems a bit premature doesn’t it, I mean there’s so many things to suss through, I can think of a cool twenty point list-” 

Then both, at the same time, “Fuck off, Colin Robinson.” 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Into the UNKNOOOOOOOOWWWNNN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhh okay so, this chapter was written and edited in between having to grab snacks for/homeschool/monitor the phone activity of my child, so this may be a bit sloppy. Maybe not tho. Don't tell me if it is LOOOL. 
> 
> Also, there's a BIT of violence in this chapter for which I will tag the story- nothing crazy, definitely not worse than what we saw in the show. As with anything in my stories though, that's subject to change in time. 
> 
> Lastly, I don't know what time it would be in Warsaw if you left NYC on a plane at 8 pm, but let me just pretend it's nearly dawn for the sake of the plot specifics. We can do some willing suspension of disbelief in a story about vampires, yeah? Yeah. Cool.

It was three hours into the flight by the time Guillermo and Nandor had both started  _ and finished _ Frozen 2. It hadn’t been the former’s choice, as it had been leftover on his amazon queue from the last time his younger niece had visited. For whatever reason Nandor had taken an interest, begged that they watched  _ that one _ despite his never having seen the first, and an hour and a half later Guillermo was waking up to Nandor dabbing his eyes and moaning in earnest about the moving tale of two sisters. He recalled, groggily, that Colin had leaned forward at some point and spoken into the ear free of a bud about taxes, causing him to drift off and miss the main plot. 

“They saved the whole kingdom!” Nandor sobbed. 

Guillermo offered him as sympathetic a look as he could muster, then excused himself to the restroom. Unfortunate that Colin had seemingly also put the man sitting on the other side of them sound asleep as well, as Guillermo had a hell of a time stepping over his legs. 

Given the biological schedule everyone was on, being that it was about 11 pm in New York by now, most of the plane was dark and quiet as he maneuvered himself down the aisle. It didn’t occur to him to keep a weathered eye out now, not until they were touching land again at least...which would prove to be his first mistake. 

As he was standing in-wait for the plane bathroom to come free again, someone else joined the line just behind him. He offered them a cursory nod, then yawned and rubbed some of the sleep from his eyes. He’d have to address Colin’s unsolicited feasting when he got back, as he didn’t think any of them could really afford to be  _ that _ out of it on any step of this journey. 

_ For fuck’s sake _ , they hadn’t even made a plan about where they’d be heading once they  _ did _ touch down, what their long term plan was for getting to Dracula’s mountain, what  _ his _ plan was for seeking out his relative...and so on. As usual, now wasn’t the time for being comatose. 

The door to the restroom finally opened and Guillermo instinctively made to move out of the way so the prior occupant could exit. Or, rather, he might have done, had the person already inside not grabbed him by the lapels of his coat and yanked him in. The individual behind him followed suit, pressing him in and shutting the door behind them. 

Between being forcibly pulled/shoved into an airplane bathroom and now being sandwiched between a woman (she who was in there first) and a man (the guy behind him the whole time), Guillermo didn’t have a lot of time to get his bearings and process what was happening. The man already had a hand wrapped around his mouth anyway, so it wasn’t like he could call for help either. 

“Uncomfortable?” the woman asked tauntingly, with a sneer. They were practically nose-to-nose in such a small, tight space that had no business trying to fit three full grown adults, so close that he could easily see her elongated canine teeth. “You should be. What kind of _ idiot _ brings himself, a known vampire killer, and his two partners in crime, on a crowded flight to Bucharest of all places? Did you think vampires wouldn’t fly international?” 

The man behind him chuckled and tightened his grip. 

Had he been able to speak, however, Guillermo might have confirmed that, no, he didn’t think vampires flew on planes. Or rather, he wouldn’t have thought enough of them did to be able to recognize him on said crowded flight. 

“Oh Boris,” the female vampire exclaimed to the male, softly clapping her hands. “The Count will be _ so  _ impressed when we bring him the kresnik’s head.”

“Could make him a lovely garland,” the male vampire agreed. “This one, the heads of the other two. Might make a nice decoration for the castle, don’t you think?” 

“We’ll leave the other two to the rest.  _ This _ kill is ours.” 

The two of them cackled wickedly together, just before the female vampire opened her mouth, bared her teeth, and made to sink them directly into Guillermo’s neck. 

Despite the rapid influx of information and activity, Guillermo knew this was one of those times when he had to  _ act _ rather than think- and so he did, as unbeknownst to his captors he still had that crucifix nestled deep in his pocket. The only problem was, the male vampire (Boris, perhaps) had his arms restrained tightly behind his back.

As such, he fought every instinct within him, allowing himself to be pushed forward to the female vampire, allowing her to push aside his head to prime the point of vulnerability, and with a bright, piercing white pain, stab her teeth fully into his neck. 

She drank greedily, quickly, his vision beginning to blur and even start to fade into spots of darkness that got bigger, more inviting. His body went slack, and when Boris seemed to feel like he was incapcitated enough, he released his tight hold. Guillermo’s hand fell to the side, brushing his pocket. 

He wanted to give into that sleepiness that took over a victim when being fed upon, he’d seen it enough times over the years to know that’s what was happening to him currently. Stronger than this desire, however, was that drive to kill. That feeling of hatred.  _ Disgust _ . It gave him the strength to reach slowly back into his pocket. 

Before either vampire seemed to realize what was happening, Guillermo had the crucifix pressed against his feeder’s neck (poetic justice). She hissed, pulled her teeth free of him, and he thusly clapped his hand into the back of her head, sending her crashing into the toilet and, thus, unconsciousness. Boris was coming at him next, but only got far enough for his prey to push the crucifix into his chest. He hissed as the cross burned and crackled his skin, and once again Guillermo took advantage of the opportunity to bash his skull against the towel dispenser. 

It took him a moment to squeeze around and rearrange his assailants so that he could easily exit the bathroom as well as keep them hidden inside. After that, all Guillermo could really think about was ‘ _ how many other vampires are on this plane? _ ’, a question he planned to have answered once he stepped back out. 

The hope, of course, was maybe those had been the only two. If not that, then ideally just a handful more. 

Both assumptions were wrong, Guillermo soon found out, as he walked slowly down the aisle of the plane taking stock of every passenger that surrounded him. It came as a very unpleasant surprise to see that they too,  _ all of them _ , seemed to realize he was aware...as every last passenger met him with a sharp toothed grin and red-eyed stare, looking up from their magazines and movies and bouts of pretending to be asleep. 

He returned to his seat calmly, if not a bit worse for wear between Colin’s draining and that of the female assailant. Ensuring that the gentleman beside them (who he had to assume was  _ also _ a vampire) was still out of commission, he slipped his phone from his pocket and began drafting a text to Colin. 

_ ‘Evry passenger here is a vampire. All of them r after us. Need 2 figure out plan. Give me sec to tell Nandor’ _

Nandor had already moved on to another film, perhaps not surprisingly also one of the children’s movies Guillermo kept on his watchlist for his 6 year old niece. He tapped his former master on the shoulder, then passed over the phone so he could read the now sent text. 

Nandor pulled himself away long enough to take a glance, then looked over, confused. “...why are you showing me this?” 

Guillermo grit his jaw, desperate and hurried. “Read. It.” 

Nandor sighed loud and low, as if he’d just been asked to take out the trash, but did as he was commanded. Slowly the realization seemed to bloom in his face and he took to looking around them, trying to spot the vampires referenced. 

Guillermo subtly shook his head, directed Nandor back to his eyeline. 

“Don’t,” he whispered, then mouthed so as to avoid their enemies hearing, “They can’t know that  _ we _ know.” 

Nandor didn’t appear to have understood that last bit, but it hardly mattered as Colin had sent a text back. 

‘ _ Pilots and flight attendants 2???’  _

_ ‘Idk dont think so. supposed to have layover in warsaw, landing in 5 hrs. Need to survive until then. Can u put them 2 sleep? Not the pilots.’  _

Now wasn’t the time for brute force, Guillermo realized, even if perhaps in any other setting, with proper weapons, he  _ might _ have been able to take them all. In this case, however, there was a much easier, less messy solution. 

_ ‘Could do something on the speaker thing. Need 2 deal w/ attendants first tho.’  _

_ ‘Just go over & strike up a convo it cant be hard’  _

_ ‘That’s a lot of eating in one go i might get bloated’  _

_ ‘Youll be dead otherwise’  _

_ ‘OK FINE’  _

* * *

  
  


It had been thanks to a series of strategic energy draining that Colin had managed to put the vampiric passengers asleep, an effort that had involved hypnotizing the flight attendants (kudos to Nandor) and then going on a lecture over the cabin speaker about 401ks and how best to manage them. By the end of the 5 hour journey, once they were touching down in Warsaw, the crowded flight was beginning to regain sentience. Thus, the group made quick work of grabbing their bags, rushing down the aisle and out of the plane before they could be followed. 

Only when they were deep in the Warsaw-Chopin airport, far enough from the plane’s arrival gate, they felt they could all regain a collective breath. 

Those that needed it, anyway. 

“We have to get out of here,” Guillermo decided in between labored gasps for air, leaning against the handle of his rolling suitcase. “That crowd of vampires is going to be stepping off the plane  _ any minute _ and the moment they do they’ll be-” 

“We are….quite aways away from Bucharest still,” Colin felt obligated to point out, showing them all the route he’d checked on his phone. “An 18 hour drive, to be exact.” 

Guillermo had already spent what remained of his patience on everything that had gone down in the last eight hours or so. Between this and his urgency to get as much distance between the vampires that pursued them as possible, he was in no mood to deal with Colin’s pedantic road blocks. 

“It doesn’t matter!” he insisted. “There’s a plane full of vampires  _ just behind us _ that want to rip off our heads- did I mention that, by the way? That they want to  _ rip off our heads _ ? That says nothing of the fact that the sun is coming up and we’re in a building that’s 85% windows.” 

“That...seems like it would take care of the first problem…” Colin suggested, maybe being purposefully difficult as retribution for having to stuff his already satiated face with the energy content of an entire commercial airline. 

“It’ll also take care of  _ Nandor _ , so unless you want to see him charred to a crisp-” 

"No, no, of course not. I thought that was more _your_ idea of a good time, anyway." 

Perhaps from mention of his own name, Nandor stepped up and inserted himself between his two arguing companions (one of which was growing more and more murderous by the second, even if he didn’t usually target energy vampires). 

“Enough!” he declared, with a sweeping of his arms. “This is getting us nowhere! Guillermo is right, enemies or no the sun is rising. The best we can do is find shelter here and figure out our next step within relative safety. Yes? Yes.” 

There was a lot to be said about Nandor and his arguably frustrating behavior most of the time, but Guillermo had to hand it to him- when push came to shove, he still had that element of warlord and strategist (however dulled it might have been from years of luxury and indulgence). It also mattered in no small part that he had stood up for his former familiar when their backs were to the wall, and for this they shared a nod of understanding and gratitude. 

“Fine, we’ll take the goddamn train,  _ jeeeez _ ,” Colin grumbled, turning around to obediently follow the signs to the airport station, some floors below. 

Most of the producers and cameramen followed suit, leaving Guillermo and Nandor to fall into a power-walking pattern behind them. 

“I...appreciate your thinking of my well-being, Guillermo,” Nandor said after a time, tentative. “Even if I have been protecting myself from the sun for hundreds of years, the thought still counts...considering, especially, that it’s not something you’re obligated to think about anymore.” 

“We’re friends now,” Guillermo explained,  _ again _ , already aware that this new dynamic was going to require continuous reminders of what it meant to actually  _ be _ friends. “I think about your well-being because I care, not because I have to. Maybe that’s better?” 

Nandor said nothing to this as they proceeded down an escalator and then another flight of stairs, prompting Guillermo to steal a glance in his direction. He had that familiar look of intense, perplexed concentration, maybe trying to wrap his mind around the idea that his former servant admitted to having a level of affection for him that transcended contractual obligation, a thing that could exist even if they weren’t tethered together by a job. 

The fact that this could cause him so much confusion made a lightbulb go off, somewhere, if only dimly. 

And maybe he hadn’t been alone in that- maybe Guillermo was  _ also _ realizing, in a very surface-level way, that their years of navigating a master-familiar situation had created a foundation of care for each other that could exist regardless. Things that he could at one time have blamed on ‘just worrying about his master’ no longer carried that connotation, but were there nonetheless, despite themselves. 

All the better that they had agreed to be friends, he figured, but Guillermo couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a friend he thought about, fretted about, fussed over the same way he did Nandor. 

  
Whatever they had was... _ different _ , somehow...and just as confusing for one as it was for the other. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An inadvertent sidetracking into Warsaw leads to more than the group bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It probably warrants mentioning in this chapter that I do not know Polish, as such I'll try to limit my usage of it LOL. Also, ideally the role of Dominik would be played by Idris Elba. Do with that what you will.

The airport train wasn’t entirely unlike the one back home in the city, apart from the much comfier seats...and the fact that they were having to check over their shoulders every couple of seconds to make sure any amount of vengeful vampires weren’t trailing them. So, in the end, comfy seats meant about fuck all to anyone present. 

“Did we really  _ not _ think to book a hotel or airbnb?” Guillermo wondered aloud with tired exasperation, because at the moment they had nowhere to hide- from the sun, vampires, or anything else. 

“To be fair,” Colin said, popping in with his usual unhelpfulness. “Check in times for most hotels and airbnbs don’t really fit the vampire schedule...so, really, I have no idea what we thought we were doing.” 

There was truth in this, of course. Being so focused on getting to Bucharest, to uncovering the answers about himself...and fetching Laszlo and Nadja, Guillermo supposed, hadn’t left much presence of mind to plan properly for this impromptu trip. 

What was worse, the sky was lightening in color every second they spent on this windowed train, more and more exposed to the elements the closer they got to the city centre. Guillermo found himself far more worried about that and Nandor’s well-being than vigilante vampire assassins- he couldn’t kill the sun, that is. And, currently, there wasn’t much he could do about Nandor’s look of petrified concern at the breaking dawn either. 

“Maybe I can find something last minute,” he decided, fumbling in something of a subdued panic to get his phone back out and try to look up options. At this point it seemed their best bet was to try to crawl into the Warsaw city sewers and, for all he knew, they might be doing just that before the morning was done. 

Their discussion kept them, once again, from taking much notice of their surroundings beyond cursory looks for evidence of other vampires. It was for this reason, that when the elderly lady in a shawl crept up to them at a stop, all of them jumped. They hadn’t seen her eying and listening to them since they’d gotten on. 

“You need safe shelter.” The first thing she said, her Polish accent so thick it was almost impossible to discern her words. “I understand. I help you.” 

The group was silent as she passed an odd looking business card to Guillermo, one that contained only an address and phone number. 

Given the incident on the flight over, he was none too eager to trust the unsolicited aid of a stranger...even if it might have the benefit of solving their immediate problem. 

“What’s this? Who are  _ you _ ?” 

Nandor muttered something to him about not being so rude to the poor old woman, but he ignored it. Old habits died hard. 

Instead of answering the posed question, the old woman gave him a crooked grin, pointed a bony finger at him. 

“Me? Does not matter.  _ You _ . You are Van Helsing. You are  _ kresnik _ . Protector. Warrior. There are some that want kill you, yes? Your vampire as well. I give you safe place. You go, give offering of meat, they let you in.”

Guillermo looked back down at the card, trying to discern some further information about where this was going to lead them- maybe more importantly, to whom. 

“How do you know what I-” he began to ask, but when he glanced up again the elderly woman was gone. Completely. 

“Where the... _ fuck _ did she go…??” Nandor exclaimed, twisting around in his seat to try and see if she had moved with unexpected speed to another part of the train. Or out of the train, perhaps, but to no avail. “What the hell was that??” 

Though glad to hear he wasn’t the only one who’d seen her, Guillermo had no further answers for him. 

“I don’t know,” he sighed, flipping the card front to back. “But I  _ think _ this is our best option.” 

* * *

  
  


Standing at the door of a sketchy looking building, in a back alley of a street in Warsaw, Poland, holding a wrapped up (but still quite bloody) piece of some animal shank, wasn’t exactly what Guillermo had envisioned when deciding to undertake this overseas journey. He hadn’t imagined that this strange scenario they found themselves in would be their only defense against life and death (also, the sun), but then, he hadn’t really set  _ any _ expectations at all beyond just getting to Bucharest. Anything that happened before, during, or  _ after _ that was fair game. 

The time had stretched on enough that the first rays of sun were already touching most of the city, this alley being their only shadowy refuge. Nandor was aware of this, of course, staying plastered to the piddly darkness as best he could, but it wasn’t the only thing he was keenly aware of. 

“Ugh, it  _ reeks _ of dog here,” he whined. “Do we  _ have _ to do this?” 

Guillermo didn’t really have it in him to go into another explanation of why, yes, they _ had  _ to do this. Thankfully he didn’t have to, as it was right then that the communication slot in the top of the door opened. 

“...co chcesz?” 

A deep, disconcerting male voice that did nothing to assuage anyone’s fears about the risks they were taking. Even if Guillermo couldn’t understand the Polish, he could hear the suspicion in the man’s tone enough to know what he had probably asked. 

“I-I don’t...do you speak English? Or...possibly Spanish? Habla usted español…?” 

No answer to this. Guillermo swallowed thickly and pushed forward. 

“We, uh...we were told to bring meat…” He held the shank up to the slot in the door. The sound of whoever was standing on the other side taking a big whiff was audible to everyone present. Then, the slot closed again. 

For a moment, the traveling party exchanged confused, wide-eyed glances, wondering if this had been a rejection, if they needed to start thinking towards another option (provided there  _ was _ one at this point). 

Then...the door opened and a dark-skinned man that stood several heads over each of them revealed himself. Guillermo noticed Nandor subtly recoil, hide his nose in his cape. 

“You have vampires,” the man observed, after casting his eye over the group as a whole. “We don’t take in leeches.” 

Guillermo made a point of arguing their case before Nandor or Colin could try to rally back with a defense, as he knew they were no doubt conjuring up. 

“ _ Please _ , we need somewhere to stay. We brought the offering.” A reminder that was necessary, as the large man was indeed eyeing that meat shank with a palpable hunger...but as he still remained silent and unmoved, Guillermo decided to go a step further. “If it helps, or...matters, I am a-...kresnik, I think? A vampire hunter. I’m a Van Helsing. I was told I’d be given shelter here.” 

The large man’s eyes widened, Guillermo wondering that he could instill obvious fear in someone so strong just by making mention of who he was. 

“You were told correctly,” the man finally relented, then extended his muscled arms. “Pass me the offering, then you may go inside.” 

Without another choice, Guillermo did as he was told, pleased to find that the man did indeed step out of their way. He could only hope that what he’d been fighting for out on this doorstep had been worth it and not, say, another opportunity for a massacre. He still didn’t have proper weapons. 

Nandor leaned over to him as they made their way into the dark, humid building, his cape practically glued over his mouth and nose at this point. 

“This is a  _ werewolf den _ , Guillermo,” he warned, in an attempt at a hushed voice. “I know that lupine stink anywhere.” 

But Guillermo knew that, despite the tenuous feelings between werewolves and vampires as a whole, werewolves were not inherently _ bad _ . Maybe he’d thought so for a time, based on the rhetoric he’d heard from those he worked for, but he was a new, more enlightened man these days. More to the point, that troublesome rivalry between these two groups could be to their advantage; werewolves weren’t that likely to work on behalf of Dracula, after all. 

The lights then came up in said werewolf den, revealing what looked like a stylish commune filled with university students and other open-minded young adults, all in different stages of relaxing in their common room. Not quite the torture chamber Guillermo was envisioning, or the nasty cave Nandor had in mind. 

The man that greeted them then said something in Polish to the rest of the group, an introduction one would assume, as the other werewolves waved or nodded to them in acknowledgement before resuming their activities. 

“Dominik,” the man introduced himself, with a cursory nod of his own. “You find yourselves in a secret society of local werewolves. This is where we live and protect each other. They designated me Alpha...probably because I own the building.” 

_ Probably also because you’re 7 ft tall and look like you could rip someone in half _ , Guillermo thought, but didn’t vocalize. 

“As I said earlier,” Dominik continued. “We don’t usually take in vampires- blood, energy sucking or otherwise...but for a Van Helsing, I have to oblige. I can only assume they must be your...prisoners…?”

“ _ Yes _ ,” Guillermo answered quickly, because he could already feel the rebuttals brewing in his companion’s heads, once again. “My prisoners. I’m taking them to…await trial in Bucharest…?” 

This seemed to be the right thing to say, as Dominik nodded in understanding. 

“If you require any restraint for them, let us know. We have handcuffs and rope.” 

Guillermo wouldn’t ask  _ why _ they had those things. It was just as well- that explanation might have detained them from being shown to their rooms. 

As there were only two that were currently unoccupied, Guillermo was given the nice, spacious bedroom with two queen-size beds in observance of his heritage (in which Nandor was thrown as well, being that he was the more dangerous ‘prisoner’ that needed proper supervision), while Colin and the producers were led to a community room on the other side of the building that contained a series of bunkbeds. 

They’d no doubt hear about the unfairness of that later, but for now all Guillermo cared about was getting some rest. 

“I don’t like this,” Nandor mused, suspicious, while he paced back and forth. “For one, this whole building smells like a dog that’s just come in from a rainstorm. I  _ MAY _ vomit.” 

Guillermo was only mutely aware of his complaints, as he sat at the edge of his bed and discarded his glasses. There was hardly any scrap of energy left in him from being drained seven different ways to Sunday, running through an airport, scrambling to find shelter, fighting two vampires in an airplane bathroom, and so on, and he wanted nothing more than to just collapse on the bed and sleep for the rest of the day. 

When he  _ had _ regained his strength, he’d use his mental facilities to try and figure out why the werewolves had such respect for his heritage, who the old crone on the train had been, how they were going to get to Bucharest from here...things that actually  _ mattered _ . 

“At least we know it’ll keep our enemies away,” Guillermo offered, already reclining against the pillows. 

“Werewolves  _ are _ the enemy, Guillermo!” Nandor insisted. “I would think after 10 years you’d know that much. Perhaps you’re just soft on them because they’ve given you preferential treatment, hmm?” 

Guillermo sighed loudly, his patience starting to slip. 

“We did the best we could under the circumstances, okay? If you want to go out in the sun and try your luck finding something better, be my fucking guest.” And he rolled over, his back to Nandor in indication that this argument was done, too exhausted, too pissed to stew over the fact that his vampire companion could be so ungrateful. Had he been without Nandor, he could’ve just booked some nice, relaxing hotel with a spa. 

Maybe if they had still been master and servant this back-and-forth would’ve been drawn out for a bit, Nandor taking insurmountable offense to his familiar’s lack of respect. Instead, there was only silence, enough for Guillermo’s eyelids to shut, for him to begin drifting off into a peaceful doze. 

Interrupted, of course, by the feeling of Nandor’s weight sinking onto the other side of his bed.

“...are you put out with me, Guillermo?” he asked, his voice taking that soft, placating tone he often used when he surmised his familiar was not content. Guillermo couldn’t say he ever entirely minded it, even if it did sound like the kind of voice one would use with a child- at the very least, it was indicative that his negative emotions didn’t just wash over Nandor like a wave of apathy. 

“I’m just tired, Mas-...” His eyes shot open a moment as he remembered himself, their situation. “I’m just very, very tired.” 

“You should get your rest then,” Nandor suggested, to which Guillermo had to fight the very strong urge to reply, ‘ _ yeah, no shit _ ’. 

He found himself once again drifting off a bit...and then once again being awakened by the feeling of a familiar, cold touch brushing the short strands of hair away from his neck. He jolted a bit in surprise. 

“Guillermo, what is this wound on your neck…?” 

He had to search his sleep-addled brain for a moment to figure out what Nandor was referring to, then quickly remembered the tussle with the vampires in the bathroom. Of course, how could he forget? 

“I was, uh...bitten, on the plane. One of the vampires that were after us.” 

Though he may have been losing consciousness, he could still clearly see Nandor’s change in expression as he stood over him like an attentive nurse. Confusion began to morph into something more fierce, more determined, his dark eyebrows narrowing. 

“They were trying to  _ eat _ you…?” Nandor confirmed, but didn’t wait for an answer one way or another. “That is...unacceptable.” 

Now it was Guillermo’s turn to be perplexed. 

“Why?” he felt the need to ask. “I don’t belong to-...I don’t  _ work _ for you anymore. And, hell, even when I did you still seemed pretty flexible on the whole ‘getting eaten’ thing.” 

He knew even in the moment that wasn’t an entirely fair thing to say. Sure, Nandor hadn’t  _ always _ been a stalwart protector, often taking a more flippant stance on other vampires wanting to sink their teeth into his familiar, but when it mattered, the times his life really  _ had _ been in danger, Nandor had always managed to come through. 

“That... _ may  _ be true,” Nandor consented, grudging. “But you are my  _ friend _ now, nevertheless. No vampire shall kill another vampire’s human without consent. It’s understood. It goes without saying.” 

Guillermo didn’t know how he felt about being characterized as ‘Nandor’s human’, perhaps especially outside the context of a master-servant relationship. Such a thing may have been more encouraging back then, when he still worshipped the ground  _ his vampire _ walked on. Now, of course, time had given him a much more realistic, balanced view of Nandor than that. 

Still, touching though this display of protectiveness may have been, it was difficult not to view it as just another act of territorialism. Nandor might have been just as angry if said vampires had tried to steal one of the frescos of his many conquerings. 

And Guillermo would be damned to become, yet again, just another one of Nandor’s many belongings. 

“I don’t think those vampires played by the rules,” Guillermo said, shifting under the covers. “And anyway, I can take care of myself.” 

There didn’t seem to be anything else to say beyond that, as of course they both knew it was the truth. Taking care of two vampires in an airplane bathroom had been nothing compared to wiping out an entire theater. 

“...does it bother you very much?” Nandor asked after a time, once again interrupting any further attempts at getting some sleep. 

Guillermo opened his eyes again to see his former master sitting on the other bed, regarding him with concern. 

“No,” he assured him, honest. “No more than a skinned knee or papercut, anyway.” 

“Look, I may not...have always been the best Master to you,” Nandor admitted, nervously rubbing his palms across his thighs. “But given what you’ve done for me...in the theater, here..I  _ will _ endeavor to be a better  _ friend _ . If there comes a time you need me in future, I hope you won’t hesitate to ask.” 

Guillermo smiled sleepily despite himself, maybe not even entirely aware. He’d known his vampire long enough to be certain of his authenticity, and in this moment he knew, at least, that Nandor was  _ trying _ . 

“What if I need you for something now?” Guillermo asked, his face half pressed against the pillow, his eyes once again having fallen shut so he missed the bewildered look on Nandor’s face. 

“Wh-...what would you need me for...right  _ now _ …?” 

“I need you to stop talking so I can sleep.” 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In case you didn't know, Warsaw has a very active paranormal-friendly nightlife! This message is not sponsored or endorsed by an official Warsaw tourism board!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, obviously this chapter took much longer to get out and while I could spend a lot of time offering up excuses for that, I think I'd rather you spend your time reading what it took me so long to write LMAO. I can't think of anything particular I need to hit on in this chapter note, but as always feel free to ask. Also, if anyone's interested, I've been forming a playlist based on this story which I'll try to link below as I don't know if embedding links in the chapter note is possible (probably with HTML but I'm Laaazy). It's a mix of songs; some of which I'd use in the soundtrack if this story was adapted for a screenplay, some of them are just mood songs/inspired by events in the story. Check it out if you like, it's on spotify!

[ story-themed playlist ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/621ZHZEA4CutZkCQTwqDEL?si=6FDYJgCBTx6RJlcQi-_iJg)

* * *

Guillermo’s eyes flitted open some hours later, the change in time only evident from how lethargic and generally post-comatose he felt. The room was still dim, lit only by the lamp that sat between the two beds, so he consulted his phone to get a better idea of the exact hour. 10 pm. A bit startling to realize he’d slept so long (if not _surprising_ considering all he’d been through beforehand) but it was nothing compared to the text notification sitting just beneath. 

[Colin, 9:30 pm] - Me & Nandor went out with the wolf boys, clubbing etc. text 4 location if you wanna link up

The fact that his wording made it sound as if he’d been inhabited by the ghost of Topher aside, Guillermo found himself simultaneously shocked and angry in equal measure. Had they _not_ just escaped from a plane full of vampires out for their heads? Did his efforts to save them and secure safe shelter mean nothing? Nothing in the face of a chance to party, anyway. 

Thoroughly fed up with his companions’ antics (before, after and during this trip) Guillermo texted back a harsh, monosyllabic inquiry as to where they were now, just as he was shrugging on his coat and stomping groggily out the door. 

* * *

  
  


Let it never be said a city of the former Eastern Bloc didn’t have a modern, active nightlife- maybe even to a point that would put New York City to shame. There were certainly more paranormal/undead-run clubs in Warsaw than the former, something Colin and Nandor might have never found out if they hadn’t swallowed their pride and agreed to accompany Dominik and his smelly commune on their night out. 

It wasn’t so much from a reckless need to kick their heels up, and they certainly hadn’t forgotten the narrow-miss of assassins on the plane, but they _did_ need to eat. If they’d become intoxicated from the alcohol and drug laden blood and energy, well...that was just a consequence of where they had to feed, right? Hardly their fault. 

At least, that was Nandor’s fuzzy justification that he had half-formed in his mind after Colin mentioned he’d texted Guillermo. He knew his former familiar well-enough to be prepared for the fact that he’d be mad at them, either sooner or later, and maybe there was also a sense of dread here for what that would mean. He was, perhaps, already on thin ice. 

But then, Nandor also knew (as he’d _always_ known, even when it got particularly difficult to remember) that it wasn’t due for a vampire to care what a human thought, arguably even less so if that human was a familiar (or, former familiar turned vampire hunter, but it wasn’t like there was a special precedent set for that kind of situation). No paranormal or undead figure, Colin included, was going to understand or care that Nandor was internally fretting over his bad decisions and how that would affect his already tenuous relationship with his vampire-killing human friend. 

But that was all well and fine, as Nandor had become quite adept at pretending and lying about the truth even to himself. This fact, coupled with the drugs and alcohol, made it easy to enjoy his time sandwiched between a male and female vampire, both of whom seemed eager to move their conversation somewhere more private. They very well might have done, had their evening not been interrupted by a stray Colin, meandering over with a look that said the shit had definitely hit the fan. 

“So, uh...Gizmo’s here…” His hands were shoved in his pockets while he glanced nervously at the floor, a stark contrast to the loud, neon lit club. It probably went without saying that Colin’s sense of peril around Guillermo had undergone a drastic change since the theater massacre. “Turns out, he’s not too thrilled we’re out doing this. Probably should have anticipated that. Anyway, his anger is pointed pretty firmly at you, so I’m just gonna make myself scarce…” 

Colin would have only remained if he felt like snacking on the argument that ensued, so either he was fully satiated or just _that_ afraid of how Guillermo had stomped into the club in pursuit of them both- or, specifically, just Nandor. 

“Who’s Gizmo?” the female vampire asked flirtatiously, twirling a bit of Nandor’s hair on her finger. 

“Your lover?” the male guessed. “He’s more than welcome. Can never have too many where vampire sex is concerned.” 

Nandor made to explain that Gizmo was not a vampire, nor would he likely be interested in their future menage a trois, but the subject of their conversation had just revealed himself naught but a few feet away, looking _beyond_ pissed. The two vampires were gone before Nandor realized they were planning to take off. 

“Guillermo…!” Nandor leapt up the moment his ex-familiar had made his way over. The realization of his guilt was obvious. “I thought you were _resting_ …” 

Not keen to beat around the bush, Guillermo answered this with a firm, “What the _hell_ do you think you’re doing?” 

Nandor had already prepared _many_ explanations of what he _thought_ he was doing -some of them more justified than others- almost as if he had anticipated this exact confrontation. He wouldn’t have opportunity to voice them, however, which was probably for the best as Guillermo wasn’t in the most receptive of moods. 

“And who the fuck were they?” Guillermo continued, motioning in the general direction of where his two momentary companions had disappeared. “Do _you_ even know?” 

“They were...some vampires out on the town…?” Nandor offered, unclear as to why that would be a problem. “I never learned their names. Does it matter? I wasn’t planning on adding them to an address book-” 

“No, of course not,” Guillermo snapped. “You were planning to disappear off in some dark corner with them for sex and then forget they existed. Well, that’s all fine when you don’t have a bounty on your head, courtesy of Vlad the Impaler himself- and guess what’s on you, right now?” 

Nandor may have known he had a point (he _did_ , in fact), but to admit to such a thing would mean owning his own foolish stupidity in doing this at all and, alas...his ego wasn’t making such concessions. Did it ever? 

“As Topher would say-...or, would’ve said prior to becoming a zombie- I think you need to ‘find some chill’, Guillermo. I can’t imagine those two were of any real danger.” 

Not the most considerate of replies by a mile, as evidenced by Guillermo’s sharpening glare in his direction. 

“Did you completely forget what almost happened on the plane over here, or are you just _that stupid_?” 

Nandor froze in startled offense, having never been excoriated by his former familiar quite like this. Perhaps he remembered how this look of awe would pull Guillermo off the warpath in days gone by, but now? Guillermo did not flinch. Not even a little bit. 

“ _Excuse me_?” Nandor bit back. “Did you really just insult my intelligence so openly?” 

Guillermo stepped forward in an act of clear aggression, staring daggers into the much taller vampire’s eyes. Nandor would later blame it on his lack of sobriety that this forward move would cause him to fall back against the sofa he’d been sitting on prior. 

“I’ll do it again,” he warned. “And again, and _again_ , because this is easily the dumbest thing anyone could do under the circumstances.”

“I don’t need to explain my decisions to you!” Nandor threw back, however ineffective. “And I’m not about to ask your permission, either!” 

“Then why did you bring me here?” Guillermo challenged. “Why am I bothering to protect either one of you, let alone Laszlo and Nadja, if you’re just going to spend your time compromising our safety? I have my own reasons for being here, and I’m not about to die before I can figure those things out, just so you and Colin can sleep and eat your way across Eastern Europe. This isn’t just some _fun vacation_ , this is a life or death situation.” 

Again, just to be clear, Guillermo was 100% in the right. Nandor _knew_ he was 100% in the right, aggressively dense though he may have been most of the time. That said, Nandor’s obtuseness, his sense of pride, and the rhetoric that had been fed to him over a thousand years time that humans were beneath a vampire’s respect, still blended together to make a weaponized refusal to consider what his friend was saying, irrespective of their history, regardless of the mutual affection they danced around so masterfully. 

These things boiled together to create a reply Nandor regretted the moment it fell out of his mouth: 

“Well, then...maybe...maybe you should just fuck off.” 

It wasn’t just a _step_ over the line, it was a big, huge, clumsy leap over all the things Nandor rationally knew better than to say or do, but even now he couldn’t find it in him to take it back. 

Guillermo, meanwhile, grit his jaw and his anger visibly broke into something much worse- hurt. Nandor had _hurt_ him. 

“Alright,” He said finally. “Then I will. Good luck.” 

And he turned on his heel, disappeared into the dense, dark crowd of party-goers, with Nandor left looking like the tool he was. 

* * *

  
  


As per his own scolding, Guillermo knew it’d be wisest to head back to the werewolf commune as quickly as possible, but as he was so overwhelmed with anger, frustration, confusion and offense in equal measure, all he could really do for the time being was collapse on a bench outside of the nightclub. He just needed some time to clear his head, try to parse through this whole situation and maybe even take stock of why he’d chosen to stick with these two liabilities in the first place. 

In doing so, however, he didn’t seem to notice that he’d picked a spot close to where their host, Dominik, was enjoying a cigarette. 

“Kresnik,” he greeted, with a playful bowing of his head. 

“Why do you call me that?” Guillermo shot out with the question almost immediately, completely forgetting his social protocol (and maybe not caring about it either) as well as the fact that his impatience needn’t be aimed at the undeserving. “Why does _anyone_ call me that? What does it even _mean_?” 

Thankfully, (and unbeknownst to Guillermo) Dominik was well accustomed to misplaced acts of aggression. That was all part of being the alpha in a werewolf pack, after all, knowing how to gently guide the inexperienced into a... _different_ kind of existence. Guillermo was in much the same place, and Domink happened to know a thing or two about vampire hunters as well. 

“Biedak…” he muttered with a smile and a chuckle of familiarity, just before flicking the butt of the cigarette to the pavement of the outdoor patio. “You don’t have many of your kind in America then? No one to guide you?” 

Guillermo sighed. “I mean, there are-...there _were_ some vampire hunters I met, but I don’t think... _somehow_ , I don’t think it was the same.” 

Dominik shook his head in confirmation. “No. Not the same. Anyone can pick up a wooden stake and call themselves ‘hunter’...but to have the blood of the kresnik, that is something else entirely.” 

Guillermo looked to him, where he stood leaning up against a wooden pillar, maybe begging for more insight in a way he couldn’t verbalize. 

“You feel the calling, don’t you?” Dominik continued. “It’s not a matter of just anger, just repulsion, a niche hobby, perhaps...for you, it is an urge you cannot fight, and could not hope to defeat. You were born for this.” 

There was undeniable truth to this. Guillermo could attest that when he’d slain vampires in the past, it had been almost as if...some power, some sense of strength that wasn’t entirely his own had taken over. It was something that emanated from the core of his very being, something that sang in his blood, in his veins.

“Please, can you-...can you just tell me what you know?” 

A flash of something between sympathy and confusion (perhaps caused by Guillermo knowing so little) crossed Dominik’s face, but he relented, taking a seat beside him on the bench. 

“I’m no expert,” he confessed, crossing one leg over the other and reclining back. This discussion was going to take awhile, it seemed. “But I have worked with Gabriel for many years, and so have many Alphas before me.” 

Guillermo’s lips parted. “....Gabriel? Gabriel... _Van Helsing_?” 

Did he finally have a name for his long-lost, apparently still-alive, vampire slaying ancestor? As if to confirm this, Guillermo added, “...I always assumed it’d be Abraham…? Y’know...the Stoker novel…” 

Dominik laughed. “An alias for a fictional character, of course- and named after his author, you’ll notice. The _real_ Gabriel Van Helsing is a different beast entirely. Though perhaps... _perhaps_ ‘beast’ isn’t the best term to use. He is actually a very cool guy. Bought the building for us, if you can believe it.”

That reply, understandably, provided more questions than answers, so Dominik edged away from the vague descriptions and got down to brass tacks. 

The story of _Gabriel_ Van Helsing, as he knew it, extended far beyond his time, beyond the time of his alleged arrival in Spain, as far back as Vlad the Impaler’s initial rise to power in 1436 and his eventual conversion into a vampire. As long as Vlad Tepes had been around, so too was Gabriel, it seemed. This stood to reason, of course, as it was only from Gabriel’s interference that the Voivode of Wallachia had been pushed back many times over the centuries, countless, unwitting human lives saved from becoming confections at his many vampire galas. Some vampires believed, Dominik claimed, that had it not been for Gabriel, their kind might have already established dominance over the world as a whole. 

“An ambitious claim, to say the least,” he scoffed. 

Of course, it helped that Gabriel was not alone in his endeavors; the secret order of the Kresnik surrounded him, protected and supported by the Vatican and Rome since time immemorial (or, since the start of the Vatican’s vested interest anyway). As for what it meant to _be_ a Kresnik, Dominik only had so much information, considering their discretion. 

The Kresnik, as he understood it, was comprised of those with Gabriel’s Van Helsing blood who had felt the ‘calling’ to destroy vampires. Not a general dislike, not a need for revenge against a vampire that had turned a loved one, not a need to prove how badass one was by slaying a creature of the night; the calling was a compulsive drive, and one that imbued abilities regardless of training or experience. Kresniks were born but once every hundred years or so, Dominik claimed, and _always_ found their way to the circle in Bucharest sooner or later. 

Beyond this, as to where this ability came from, any origin points that might be attributed, Dominik didn’t know. But as for the alliance between Gabriel’s circle and the werewolves of Eastern Europe, he had information aplenty. 

“The Kresnik and werewolves have one very important thing in common,” he explained. “We both hate vampires- or, rather, we hate vampires that allow power to go to their heads. The kind that treat other beings as disposable- as meals, servants, and so on. So, we work together. It’s been a fine arrangement for the past two hundred years, so who am I to criticize?” 

Guillermo wouldn’t say anything about Nandor and Colin’s proclivities that leaned towards exactly what Dominik was describing. Maybe he’d thought them too stupid to be dangerous which was...well, _valid_ , as far as Guillermo was concerned. 

“So, that’s why you offered us-...or, rather, me, I guess, shelter…?” Guillermo guessed. “But how do you know I’m what I say I am? I’m not really sure myself-” 

“I can smell it on you.” Dominik confirmed, casually, as if it was common knowledge. “I can smell it on any Kresnik. Yours is not as potent... _yet_. But the scent is still there.” 

Guillermo supposed that was as good a confirmation as any that this situation, his various moments of vampire slaying, went far, far beyond some psychological, self-fulfilling prophecy. Destiny was calling him, whether he liked it or not. 

“I hope you do not mind we took your prisoners out with us,” Dominik grinned, lighting up another cigarette. “It is considered most humane to give the damned one last night of enjoyment...and they did not seem so bad, as far as vampires go. But if you are transporting them to the circle, well...I can only imagine they deserve whatever is coming to them. Don’t worry, we’ve kept a close eye on them. There’s no one to really harm in a paranormal nightclub.” 

Guillermo froze up a bit, only now recalling the story that had gotten them into the werewolf commune in the first place. 

“Oh...yeah…” he agreed, playing along as best he could. “Yeah, they were just-...a real nuisance back in New York. Just, y’know...killing and killing and draining and draining.” 

Dominik nodded in understanding, prompting to Guillermo to feel almost guilty about his lie (however necessary it might have been). It didn’t hinder him, however, from mentioning;

“I...still need to get them to Bucharest, of course, and being that we-... _I_ have some vampires after me already-” 

Dominik looked over and casually asked, “You need an escort?” 

“Well...yeah. Safe passage, anyway. I can handle myself, but getting _them_ safely to proper justice-...” 

“You needn’t say anymore. I will accompany you.” 

Guillermo bit his lip, nervous. That hadn’t exactly been his goal in bringing this up, but all things considered...maybe having a werewolf alongside them for protection wasn’t the worst idea. Dominik’s smell alone would keep most vampires away. 

“Are...are you sure?” Guillermo asked. “I know you’re an Alpha and everything...I wouldn’t want you to have to abandon your duties-...” 

Dominik waved off his concerns. “I have temporary replacements, as any good Alpha does. Anyway, it’s about time I got out of the commune for a bit, did some traveling…” 

There wasn’t much sense in refusing Dominik’s offer outside of a concern for the lie he had told coming to light, and the fact that this all might get much, much uglier even before they got to Romania. It already had, after all. 

* * *

  
  


There were some aspects to being an energy vampire that often went unmentioned (unless, of course, such a mention might provide sustenance in a long-winded tirade). One of these was the ability to read and feel emotion as easily as one might smell and/or visually identify a flower. Colin assumed this ability came along with the ‘energy vampire’ package as a survival measure; you wouldn’t want to feed from someone whose energy was bitter, for example, or absorb any sadness as it might make you too feel weepy and lethargic. It was a useful tool in many ways, even beyond feeding, especially if one was an energy-feeder that happened to have friends. 

Colin was one such energy vampire, for better or for worse. It wasn’t that he had _intended_ to make friends with his vampire roommates when they initially moved in (sometime in the mid 1800’s or towards the turn of the century...it was hard to remember exact dates after a certain point) but when a group lives together that long...perhaps it was just fate. Perhaps there was no running from the affection he’d eventually develop for his three reject vampires. 

And granted, Colin never lost sight of the fact that it was very, very difficult to earn and maintain interpersonal relationships when one had to regularly bore their companions for food. The fact that Nadja, Laszlo and Nandor stuck around even through the worst of his leaching was not something he’d soon forget and, _occasionally_...Colin would try to pay that forward. 

It helped in this particular context, of course, when Nandor was stomping outside to join him for a bit of fresh, Warsaw air, that he had already eaten his fill within the club itself. 

“What happened to your friends?” Colin asked of the male and female vampire that were keeping him company last they saw each other. “Didn’t think I’d be seeing you again until _much_ later.” 

Nandor didn’t answer, probably because he didn’t feel like going into it, but as ever, this didn’t deter Colin from continuing to speak. 

“More to the point, where’s Gizmo?” Colin surveyed the perimeter for any sign of their little warrior, before an obvious realization hit him; “Ah. You two had a bit of a row again, huh?” 

Colin chuckled to himself because his following thought seemed particularly ridiculous, “I tell ya, it’s hard to miss Laszlo and Nadja with you two around. Haven’t been hungry since this trip started!” 

He looked to Nandor, as if expecting his friend to be sharing the chortle in kind, but instead found nothing other than a piercing, warning stare. A quick read of his energy told him there might be something more genuine and serious about this situation than he was giving it credit for. Colin’s smile then fell a bit, because...neither of those things were good as concerned a vampire and a vampire hunter. And/or human. 

“I cannot _stand_ this new attitude,” Nandor said finally of his tiff with Guillermo. “Telling me what to do, what not to do, when to do or not do things. I do _not_ appreciate being bossed around like a helpless child!” 

“Yeah. I don’t think Gizmo appreciated it either.” 

Colin didn’t necessarily mean for it to be a pointed mention at Nandor to reevaluate his stance, but nonetheless any rebuttal to this quickly died on his tongue. 

After a beat of silence, Colin offered, “I mean...we _could_ just tell him to take a hike. We’ve got some options now as regards this whole Dracula thing- there’s the werewolves, maybe we can work something out with-” 

“No.” Nandor said quickly. “No, no, I don’t want Guillermo to-...”

“Leave? You don’t want him to _leave_? You realize he doesn’t do anything useful anymore, like laundry or cleaning or-” 

“He doesn’t have to!” Nandor exclaimed, and Colin was starting to get a bit confused as to what, exactly, Nandor wanted from this complicated situation with his former familiar. Maybe even _he_ didn’t know. “It’s not about that.” 

Colin was far from the sort of person who respected the unspoken need for privacy, so he pressed on, “Then...what is it...about?” 

“I don’t know!” Nandor now shouted, throwing his arms into the air in defeat. “That is-...maybe I do, but I don’t want to say. It’s too embarrassing, Colin Robinson!” 

But Colin was already several steps ahead, unbeknownst to his vampire friend and perhaps the readers, as well. 

“You just don’t want him to leave,” Colin explained. “For whatever he was to you in the past, and whatever he’s becoming now, you only know that despite all the irritations, you don’t want to exist in a world that he isn’t a part of. And you don’t really _get_ why that is, but it’s the case nonetheless. And you’re struggling because you don’t know how to verbalize that to anyone, let alone _him_ , without making yourself more vulnerable than you’re comfortable with.” 

Nandor just stared at him a moment, open-mouthed, and Colin said knowingly after awhile of savoring this look, “Did I about hit the nail on the head there, or-...?” 

There was still no reply from the other participant of this conversation, but Colin didn’t really need one. He instead slapped Nandor affectionately on the shoulder. 

“Yep, you’ve grown kinda fond of that little vampire murderer. That’s unfortunate though, right? A vampire killer and a vampire. One could safely assume this isn’t gonna end well.” 

And then he was gone, back to the werewolf den, because what better a way to end a poignant heart-to-heart with a friend than with a foreboding warning?


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guillermo gets further insight into what it means to be a kresnik.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand I'm back. Adding a female OC into the mix because I wanted some more female characters and I think she'll be fun addition to the preexisting dynamic- give her a chance to introduce herself properly, first she has to literally wreck some stuff. 
> 
> Guillermo and Nandor continue trying this 'friend' thing out, but stuff is getting complicated because of course. 
> 
> Colin's just happy to be here? Probably? Who knows.

The digital alarm clock between their beds read a cool, 6:15 pm...a time in which Nandor should’ve  _ probably _ still been asleep, but found that either due to the bed (which was very human and not at all fit for vampire slumber) or... _ other distractions _ , he couldn’t. 

... _ other distractions _ being the shadowed outline of Guillermo snoring soundly on the bed across from him. From this angle he didn’t look much different from a pile of pillows that had been stuffed haphazardly under a blanket, but maybe that provided some helpful anonymity. Maybe it gave Nandor safer allowance to examine him from afar while running through all the thoughts that Colin’s input had now planted in his mind. 

On the one hand, Colin  _ of course _ loved to play games and antagonize. Being an energy vampire gave him an unsettling leg up on any mental and emotional screwing around and,  _ that _ , he took advantage of quite frequently. It couldn’t be overlooked that maybe what Colin had said was nothing more than bullshit, an attempt to get under Nandor’s skin and make this situation as uncomfortable as possible and much more ripe for the consuming. He could very well have just been trying to make Nandor and Guillermo his own little bag of snack peanuts for the ride ahead. 

Even so. That theory wasn’t doing much in the way of ridding Nandor of his intrusive thoughts, or at the very least steering him off the path of examining the relationship between him and his former familiar in ways he hadn’t before. 

Nandor recalled, for probably the first time in many, many years, the circumstances under which they had met- the first and last time (until recently) that they had occupied spaces around one another that were something other than master and servant. In fact, a younger Guillermo had very nearly been lunch. 

_ “Wait...you’re a vampire.”  _

In his thousand some-odd years of being a vampire, Nandor had never had a victim react that way when he had bared his teeth. He’d never had one react that way since. 

_ “Well...yes, _ **_obviously_ ** _ I’m a vampire, and  _ **_obviously_ ** _ I’m going to eat you, so just stay still…”  _

Guillermo had seemed a very lovely morsel from afar; 20-ish years old, very much a virgin, a pure, wholesomeness to him that sang out like a delicious, fruity bouquet...and yet, even then, when he was young and wide-eyed and untouched by the grim reality of casual death, there was still an edge to him that Nandor couldn’t qualify. He imagined it would give his blood a welcome spice, maybe cut into that sweetness a bit so it wasn’t overbearing. 

And, who knows. Maybe it would have. 

_ “Wait, wait, wait...not yet. Don’t do it yet.”  _

It wasn’t a beg. It wasn’t motivated by fear. Guillermo’s voice didn’t waver, his limbs didn’t shake when he pulled Nandor away from his neck. It was spoken as casually as one brings up a business proposition. 

And, again, it was all very strange. Nandor had attacked and eaten an untold amount of people in his time and this...this level of bravery, this complete lack of concern, this eagerness, this inability to even  _ second guess _ pushing a fanged, hungry vampire away from one’s neck with all the grace of politely asking someone to move out of the way, was completely without precedent. 

Maybe in another vampire that would’ve inspired annoyance. Impatience. But Nandor _ had _ been a soldier once...and though it hadn’t been for a very, very long time, there were still some things a conqueror had no choice but to admire; a lack of fear in the face of certain death was one. Who even  _ had _ that level of courage anymore? 

_ “I...don’t suppose you’re in need of a familiar?”  _

Nandor had to pause then because, well...yes, he was in need of a familiar. Such help was difficult to find in a world of humans that were either too afraid of vampires or too prone to death (the latter of which happened often to prospective servants). But this little guy, well-...he wasn’t afraid. And if he  _ were _ to accidentally die on the job, that’d just be a nice aperitif for his Master, wouldn’t it? 

It seemed a win-win situation all around, apart from Nandor having to give up the chance to sink his teeth into a choice neck right then and there...but, all things considered, it seemed a small price to pay. 

Things were different now, of course...to say the very least. Things had a habit of changing  _ a lot _ where humans were concerned, and while Guillermo had managed to stay pretty consistent for most of his tenure in service Nandor supposed it should’ve just been seen as a matter of time before the paint peeled. Humans  _ needed _ change. They lived such short lives, so little time to experience all that there was in the world. 

He should have turned him, perhaps. Nandor knew this. Nandor also knew  _ why _ he hadn’t done in the first place and...well, it had been to avoid things he feared that came to pass anyway, so it seemed there was little point to holding it off now. Maybe if Guillermo had been turned he wouldn’t have left. Maybe if he was a vampire now they wouldn’t be staring down the hard, cold reality that they were on two different sides of the same battlefield. 

Vampire hunter versus vampire. Nandor knew he wouldn’t stand a chance if Guillermo ever decided he was an enemy. He knew. Even if he wouldn’t admit it outloud. 

“I don’t want you to hate me, Guillermo.” Nandor said, to the still slumbering form in front of him. “But how do I convince you otherwise? Is it inevitable? Are we  _ meant _ to cross blades someday?” 

Stranger still, it wasn’t a fear of his own death that made this scenario so abhorrent, it was the idea of  _ Guillermo _ being the one to do it, the image that rang out in his mind of his former familiar of all people, the one person he perhaps trusted more than any other, staring at him with absolute  _ hatred _ as he plunged a stake into his former master’s heart.

But even worse, even more shocking and terrible than this; the fact that Nandor feared Guillermo leaving altogether, without hesitation or regret, more than he did this aforementioned outcome. 

**Shit** . Intentionally or not, Colin had been right. At the heart of things, Nandor wanted only for Guillermo to  _ be there _ \- not to serve him, not to worship the ground he walked on, but to be with him. Next to him. A constant presence in his immortal life, whatever form that took. 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck shit shit shit shit  **_shit_ ** . 

Nandor had been rubbing his palms on his thighs nervously for the duration of this entire internal monologue, but when his thoughts started to careen towards something like,  _ ‘What could inspire such feelings in me…?’  _ He had to get up from where he sat on the edge of his own bed, throw open the window of the room, and stick his head out into the Warsaw night air to clear his mind. 

He had a suspicion of where that train of thought was going, and he wasn’t about to be aboard for it to reach its final destination. Vampires didn’t do these things. Vampires didn’t prioritize humans. 

Nandor didn’t hear Guillermo begin to stir at the sound of car horns, ambulances and voices from the street below now filling the room, otherwise he might have closed the window sooner. 

“Mmm-...master…?” 

Nandor’s spine went rigid, he turned around to answer to the title he’d always known from Guillermo and, yet, had been certain he’d never be called again. It made a bit more sense when he saw him with his eyes still closed, reclined and snoring, and realized his former familiar was still asleep and talking through his REM cycle, perhaps. 

Stranger still, Nandor found himself... _ resistant _ to being called such things for reasons he didn’t think he had the emotional capacity to touch right now. But asleep or not, he felt he’d be remiss not to make the correction in Guillermo’s stead. 

He sauntered over to Guillermo’s bedside, his hands clutched in front of him as gentlemanly as they usually were but, now, for reasons other than appearance. 

“I am not ‘Master’ anymore, Guillermo,” he said in something of a whisper to the slumbering form. “If...I ever was.” 

A bit of awareness on Nandor’s part of the reality of things, though that wasn’t his custom. Still, Nandor knew that, in some respect, he lived in an altered version of how things  _ really _ were, due in no small part to his insistence on creating more comfortable illusions for himself. He knew he wasn’t really the head vampire of the house that commanded respect, so much as Laszlo, Nadja and Colin were willing to humor him. 

And he also knew, as he had been mutely aware of since the time of their first meeting, that Guillermo was  _ so much more _ than what he appeared to be. Maybe it had been easy to pretend he was nothing more than a dumb, vulnerable, eager, pure and delicious young thing that hung on his Master’s every word. It was an ‘illusion’ of their own that had worked quite well (at least for Nandor) for a good decade or so. 

But he had to have suspected this would happen, right? Knowing as he did about that fire that burned quietly in Guillermo’s heart, the one that lept out in the way his blood sang, in the scent of his skin…

Guillermo was always meant for more, far more than Nandor had the capacity to provide, so how could he ask not to be left behind? Would his pride allow it? Would his honor (such as it was) permit him? 

But the room was quiet, and the city was at the same time close and yet, a very, very distant presence and hum of noise, and they were the only two there. Nandor decided it was safe to indulge himself, even just a little, and he took a seat beside where Guillermo slumbered. Slowly, delicately, as if reaching out to touch something that was all at once too fragile and too important to be handled by someone as reckless as him, Nandor idly brushed the dark curls of hair from Guillermo’s forehead and wondered at this strange, powerful, gentle creature that could be  _ all _ of these things. 

“I am not ‘Master’ anymore...” he repeated again, this time more to himself and the dark silence that was both freeing and cloying. 

Guillermo was hot to the touch, as all humans are to a vampire’s cold fingertips. He’d always been much warmer than average though, Nandor thought, the consequence of that fire that must have only grown since discovering his abilities. Conversely, Nandor’s glacial temperature was the exact opposite, and he was reminded of the stark contrast when Guillermo flinched a bit at his fingertips, shifted away back under the covers. It shouldn’t have saddened him...even as it did. 

They were very different, the two of them. Vampire and vampire slayer. Fire and ice. Two forces that, according to the laws of nature, had no business being so intertwined. 

If there was anything very private, and maybe even very sacred about this moment (there was), it was quickly broken by the sudden presence of Colin in the room- slamming open the door, flicking on the lights and announcing in an irritatingly sing-song voice, “Gooood morning, Vietnam, it’s time to make the donuts! -....oh.” 

It’s unclear what kind of figure Nandor might have cut to anyone else, caught sitting there on the side of his ex-familiar’s bed, his hand but inches away from where he was gently caressing his forehead earlier, Guillermo just stirring awake...but to Colin, nothing really needed to be explained. 

“My bad, I didn’t interrupt anything, did I...?” he asked with an impish grin in Nandor’s direction. Nandor didn’t like that there was someone else privy to his inner turmoil, much less so that it was  _ Colin Robinson _ of all people. 

Guillermo, however, was unaware of  _ all _ of this, but for the sudden presence of light and Colin’s flat, mocking tone. He groaned as he reached for his glasses on the bedside table, Nandor flinching a moment as he had almost made the effort of replacing them for Guillermo himself- yet another thing Colin didn’t neglect to notice. 

“Time to go…?” Guillermo had asked groggily, to no one in particular. 

“Yeah, Dominik appears to be saddling up and ushering us out- but we can’t do much without our prison guard.  _ Obviously _ .” 

Nandor supposed it was due for him to be irritated at Guillermo’s arrangement of them as prisoners in his custody -as Colin so obviously was- , but there were... _ other things _ to be preoccupied with now, after all. 

* * *

  
  


It wasn’t long after this that our trio of heroes found themselves, once again, navigating a busy railway station with rolling bags behind them and sleep in their eyes (apart from Colin, who was well-fed and energized as per usual). Dominik had arranged to meet them there and so he did, his energy at levels similarly inconsistent with the rest of the group. 

“Dobry wieczór, kresnik and company!” And he bowed, with a little dramatic flip of the hand- for Guillermo more than anyone else, surely. 

This act of respect was lost on its target, however, as Guillermo was still very sleepy and patience-deprived in equal measure. 

“I suppose we’ll need train tickets…” he yawned, about to saunter over to the appropriate counter, but Dominik knowingly wagged his finger. 

“You won’t find tickets for  _ our train _ there. This is...a more exclusive form of travel. I will show you….” Though, it seemed he’d be hesitating from ‘showing’ them right away, as he then checked his watch and sighed. “Once our newest companion has arrived.” 

No one present could be certain what he was talking about, given as far as anyone knew they were already ‘all they were to be’. Then again, no one was keen to ask for clarification either, as it was only by Dominik’s goodwill and loyalty to Guillermo’s kind that they’d gotten this far.

Well, all except one. Nandor’s pride demanded a certain amount of acknowledgement, after all, and it had already been through the ringer. 

“The _ fuck  _ do you mean ‘newest companion’? We didn’t authorize this!” 

Dominik chose to ignore him, instead addressing Guillermo, “Kresnik, you must learn to silence your prisoners more often.” 

Nandor sent him -Guillermo, of all people- a look of offended disbelief, as if there was something Guillermo could say or do to demand he be shown the proper respect. Guillermo’s resigned glance back at his former Master, coupled with a shrug, must have been indication enough that this wasn’t true. They had to live their lie, whether they liked it or not. 

But no more discussion (verbal or otherwise) was to be had at this point, as it was then that loud, squeaky wheels of a rolling suitcase could be heard swiftly approaching them. 

“I’m here, I’m here…!” the flustered young woman -seemingly their new acquaintance- may have said, but it was difficult to discern from the breakfast sausage biscuit wedged firmly in her mouth. 

“Annika,” Dominik greeted, as patiently as he knew how. “You’re 15 minutes late. But with  _ breakfast _ , I see, at least.” 

She argued something unintelligible, but the insistence was somewhat lessened now that she realized her bag had come open, spilling various clothing articles behind her. 

It was then that Dominik explained that she, Annika, would be coming along with them as one of the best fighters in his pack. 

“ _ Another _ werewolf then,” Nandor groaned, just to Guillermo this time, maybe because he was standing closest. 

“And not a...very graceful one either…” Guillermo added, with a grimace. Watching Annika hurriedly stuff her discarded clothing pieces back in the bag, while still fumbling with her breakfast, and bearing in mind  _ she _ was coming along to help protect them...it seemed all a bit too hard to believe. 

But then again, hadn’t the same been said about him? 

“She may as well leave those clothes on the floor of the train station,” Nandor said of her rushing about. “They’d smell better for it, I’m sure.”

And, despite himself, Guillermo laughed. It wasn’t a kind thing to do, making fun of someone’s awkwardness and simultaneously their natural, canine-like smell...but no one had ever said he was  _ always _ well-behaved. 

“Maybe give a chance for some of the fleas to hop off…” he added back to Nandor in a giggly whisper, to which he reciprocated with another well-timed, dog/wolf themed joke. And so it went, the both of them conspiratorially sharing a moment of laughter at someone else’s expense, but after a point it became less about ridiculing their new addition and more about...the wonder that it was to make Nandor laugh. 

It wasn’t a thing usually allowed him, at least before. Maybe the difference was their target being a werewolf, not a vampire (he wasn’t permitted to make fun of vampires, back in the day), but then again, it seemed regardless of the target Nandor usually deflected this kind of informal exchange between them when it had mattered. 

For...whatever reason it had mattered then. Guillermo was glad it didn’t anymore. Maybe this friendship thing would work out after all. 

At least, he was able to think as much up until the point he noticed Dominik was watching them, eyes narrowed, suspicious. Was he displeased by their ridiculing of Annika or...the fact that a kresnik was being unusually friendly with his ‘vampire prisoner’? Guillermo chose to play it safe by grimming up and moving a couple steps away from Nandor’s side. 

They couldn’t abandon the ruse now. 

* * *

  
  


The particular train Dominik had been so vague about turned out to be one that served exclusively supernatural beings. If there were any trains of this kind back in New York, neither Guillermo, nor Colin, nor Nandor were at all aware of them (but then, the MTA failed to adequately provide regular, dependable service to humans, let alone horses of a different color). In Europe, it seemed, supernatural beings were less of a completely unknown quantity that lurked in the shadows, and more of an open secret everyone accepted- grudgingly or otherwise. Hence, the Warsaw train station could provide transport that catered solely to beings of this nature. 

More of this culture became apparent to them as they embarked, Guillermo soon being identified for what he was by the zombie ticket-taker (and Dominik, helpfully pointing it out). 

“Kresnik! Kresnik!” the conductor announced, somewhat painfully as his jaw was already sort of dangling from his skull, and led the group on to a series of private cars that were all their own. 

The train was deceptively beautiful, Guillermo had to admit, particularly their private car away from the riff-raff (thereby assuaging his concerns they’d be discovered and targeted again by enemies). The interior appeared as though it had been built sometime in the late Victorian period, with hard, deep mahogany wood paneling, sumptuous red velvet seat covers, gilded, intricate patterns on the furniture and walls. It wasn’t entirely unlike their house back in Staten Island, he thought, just much cleaner and far more neatly kept than anything he would’ve been capable of. 

Annika proved herself even more obtuse to -or, perhaps unconcerned with- social norms, and leapt up on the cream colored chaise the moment she saw it...then rolled about a bit, then curled up to sleep as a dog would. 

“Oooo...I feel like a duchess…” she muttered as she drifted into slumber. 

Dominik sent Guillermo an apologetic look. “She is... _ new _ to her form. The canine habits go away in time, but she is a very adept fighter. I’m sure you can understand, being a bit inexperienced yourself.” 

Dominik wasn’t wrong, but all the same, Guillermo would be glad of the fact that his ‘new form’ didn’t involve sniffing butts or rolling in mud. 

“So, what’d you have to slip the conductor to get us a place like this?” Colin asked Dominik, seemingly both amused and awed by their surroundings. 

Dominik laughed, stretched himself out on the couch opposite of Annika. 

“ _ Nothing _ , of course,” he said with a victorious grin. “This car is reserved for Kresnik passengers. The doors openly only for them...to prevent any escape attempts, should prisoners be in transit.” 

Colin and Nandor may have been once again sneering, but Guillermo’s attention was focused moreover on the minute details he may have missed earlier. There were crosses, subtle ones, etched lightly into parts of the wood paneling of the walls...and when Dominik knowingly pointed upwards, Guillermo’s mouth dropped open. 

Painted on the ceiling, in a creamy, Vatican-stylized fresco, was a dark, visceral rendering of he who could only be Van Helsing - _ the _ Van Helsing- battling a horrible, huge, bat-like creature shrouded in darkness but for the white of its teeth and the red of its eyes. Dracula, surely, the question needn’t have even been asked. 

From Van Helsing’s back sprouted long, white elegant wings, and behind him- blinding streaks of a celestial light that the artist had somehow managed to capture with oil paint alone. He was handsome, heroic,  _ glorious _ . That such a depiction of a ‘monster hunter’ could have been made on a train for exclusively supernatural beings confused him. So did the existence of this car alone. 

Ever with a well-timed explanation, however, Dominik provided, “You see, kresnik? Here, you are highly regarded. The supernatural communities of Europe understand the importance of our protectors, those who keep the...murderers among us at bay. It is why we live so comfortably and open, while those of you in America continue in your barbaric practices. Perhaps if you respected your protectors more?” 

This last quip he had said towards Colin and Nandor, specifically, the latter of whom had just now discovered the same crucifix etchings in the wood. 

“The FUCK is this shit!! I can’t be in a room filled with crosses!!!!” 

And Nandor was hissing, hiding in his cape, running into the sleeper car...only to be heard shrieking again at another strategically-placed crucifix shortly thereafter.

* * *

  
  


A feeling of peace (or, at least, the illusion of it) finally settled over the group after a few hours into the train ride. Colin might have been lacking in drainable targets and Nandor might have resorted to hiding under his own cape from the numerous crosses like a makeshift tent, but Guillermo had his own study in the car (small, but he could close the door) and so he made use of it, sitting there in silence with his earbuds covering up any other sound, watching as the lush forests wheeled by them, lit only by the star-studded sky. 

Faster and faster, closer and closer they got to his ultimate destination...and so increased the feelings of apprehension and fear. What would his ancestor think of him when they met? Guillermo knew, after all, he didn’t take the... _ traditional _ form of heroic warrior, certainly not in the way his great-something grandfather did. 

What if all of this was a big mistake? It was getting increasingly difficult to believe he could  _ actually _ be a kresnik, some immortal fighter entitled to all this pomp and respect. It wasn’t as if he’d been pretending for the sake of clout or anything, this all  _ felt  _ very real...and yet, it had no pretense. Guillermo had never known a time when he’d been treated this way before. 

But for as much as it was getting increasingly tempting to call this whole thing off, there was still a job to do. Still, ironically enough, a couple of vampires to save that he did very much care for, all things considered. There wasn’t really an option B at this point. 

Interrupting his thoughts was the sound of the sliding door to the study being opened- or rather, the movement out of the corner of his eye, as he couldn’t really hear anything over Morissey playing at the highest decibel. 

“Figured you might need this, kresnik…!” 

It was Annika, a saucer and cup balanced  _ very _ delicately in her hands considering the slobbishness of her behavior earlier. 

He accepted, more from a loss of anything else to do, but was pleasantly surprised to find the robust smell of a dark, strong coffee wafting up into his nostrils. 

“Oh, that’s-...that’s really nice of you, Annika, thank you.” She clapped her hands gleefully, twirled around a bit in a circle that reminded him very much of how his mom’s late poodle-mix used to do, and then leapt up on the seat beside him. Though Guillermo had been planning to offer her a chance to stay, out of reciprocal politeness if nothing else,  _ clearly _ it had been unnecessary. 

“So, you’re a, uhm...brand new werewolf, then?” he asked, attempting to make light conversation under the circumstances (though what passed for ‘light conversation’ between supernatural beings might have seemed jarring to the average mortal), humming a bit in delight after taking a sip of the rich brew. Yes, this would do him nicely. 

“Yes, that’s me!” she exclaimed with a slight performative sigh. “It’s a bit...strange. I could do without all the fleas.” 

As if to punctuate this, her back leg instinctively reached to scratch the side of her head...before she remembered such things didn’t work in human form. Instead, she plucked the flea off with her fingers and returned to grinning at him. 

Guillermo just stared with wide-eyes for a moment at the vague space she’d flicked the flea into. Apparently his and Nandor’s joke hadn’t been an exaggeration at all. 

“Dominik’s been trying to get me to take the flea medication…” she explained. “But I just can’t seem to take  _ any _ medicine anymore if the pill’s not wrapped in cheese. And I can’t always find a  _ good _ soft cheese! You see my problem.” 

Guillermo didn’t really know what to say to this in order to keep the conversation flowing for politeness’ sake, but he didn’t have to think of anything; Annika was good at talking, whether or not the person she addressed had much to say themselves. 

“And you!” she said, giving him a gentle poke in the arm with her finger. “You’re a bit new as well, yes? I have to say, it’s very much a relief. When Dominik said we’d be helping out a kresnik-” 

Guillermo nodded in understanding and managed a strained, wan smile. “I get it. Apparently, I don’t really look like one. Probably much less intimidating than you expected, hm?” 

Annika smiled apologetically. “Well...yes. But as you and your prisoner said, I don’t really fit in either. At least not yet.” 

Guillermo flushed a bright red in embarrassment. She’d heard them, she  _ must _ have. Did all supernatural beings  _ have _ to get imbued with highly sensitive hearing? 

“Oh, uhm, look, I’m really sorry-” 

His attempt to apologize for the faux pas fell on unconcerned ears, as Annika didn’t seem in the slightest bit perturbed, bitter, or even interested in the effort. 

“So, we’ll learn together? The both of us? The alliance between Kresnik and Werewolves goes back centuries. We’re a natural team!” 

She said this with the clear assumption he’d already know, which he  _ kind _ of did, but there was still so much more to be said and to discover. He might very well have asked after this mention for more info, had their car not chosen just then to jostle in a very unsettling way. 

“Is that...normal…?” 

Annika shrugged. “I’ve never ridden in the kresnik carriages. But, you know how it is...an unfortunate animal on the line or something, likely.” 

Guillermo wasn’t certain of that, given the pattern thus far of them being pursued by what seemed like an underground effort. 

“Maybe I’ll...just go check…” 

He said this as Annika had begun regailing him about another, vaguely related subject, also unconcerned with his need for caution. He placed down the saucer of coffee (with some amount of regret, of course) and gingerly stepped out to the main hallway of the central car, wondering why the seating area was now empty and the rest of the space, completely silent. 

Perhaps silence and emptiness at nighttime would’ve been perfectly normal in any other human-ridden space, but Guillermo knew better. He’d been occupying supernatural circles too long to think otherwise. 

“Dominik…? …..Colin? …….Nandor?” 

He paced down the hallway, the series of glass-lined, enclosed rooms between the connected coaches, becoming increasingly worried the less he heard of his companions. 

For safety’s sake he grabbed a stake off the wall- part of a series of displayed weapons that may have once belonged to his ancestor. The historical value didn’t much matter right now, so much as the ability to do some damage...and this stake would certainly deliver, he thought, long, thick, and sharpened finely as it so obviously was to do the most damage. Lastly, he took the crucifix and rosary beads from his pocket, wrapped them around his fingers so the cross stood stark white against his knuckles. 

He could smell something now, something that was at once wholly unfamiliar and, yet, the most recognizable scent that could have ever flooded his nostrils. 

“Did you begin to think this would be  _ easy _ , kresnik?” 

Emerging from the shadows, grinning maniacally with blood red eyes, was the female vampire that had tried to drain him on the airplane. Guillermo had begun to suspect beforehand that he hadn’t seen the last of her. 

“ _ Of course _ you did,” she scoffed. “Surrounded as you are by this... _ disgusting _ display of ego.” 

She hissed at a nearby etched-in crucifix.

Guillermo felt that initial surge of fear that had usually been enough to keep him back from an untold amount of things, despite his many victories thus far. It was difficult to say why; maybe due to that dramatic painting of his ancestor that spoke of a person he would certainly  _ never _ be. Maybe it was due to the unfamiliar surroundings. Likely, it was a combination of all these things. 

Nevertheless, his irritation at the various road bumps and detours they had been made to suffer thus far burned brighter. 

“Who even  _ are _ you? What do you  _ want _ ?” 

Her eyes flared and her smug smile tightened into pursing of her full lips, as if he’d done her the utmost offense by not knowing these things- though he  _ was _ certain she wanted to kill him. More background information on this would have been most appreciated. 

He reminded her who held the reigns in this conversation, once she made an attempt to advance and he raised the crucifix to her face. 

While Guillermo knew it would force her to keep a distance, he didn’t expect a certain harsh blow of energy to push out from said cross, one that seemed to force the vampiress to recoil quickly, to gasp and hiss as if flames had touched her- despite the crucifix making no contact whatsoever. 

“It’s growing in you,” she said in gasps of breath after a time, once the pale flesh of her face and hands had healed back from boiling blisters. Her eyes were wide with fear now, but still that smirk remained. “It doesn’t matter...it will kill you all the same.”

Guillermo felt his heart leap into his throat, wishing he could be uncertain of what he knew he’d heard. He might have pressed her to  _ explain _ this statement, either politely or otherwise, but it was then that the door to the study suddenly burst off its hinges, flew across hallway, forcing both of them to duck. 

Following the almighty clatter that was the study door smashing and shattering into a million pieces, was a low, deep, reverberating growl that could have only belonged to one creature. Guillermo reluctantly looked up from where he’d taken shelter under his own arm, grimacing, because he had the distinct feeling he was about to see Annika’s werewolf form. 

And there she was, slinking past the door, ropes of dripping saliva sticking from her dagger-length teeth to the shards of the broken doorframe. Where was once a rather small, mousy looking young woman, stood a seven to eight foot tall, snow-white werewolf with claws that seemed capable of crushing a man’s head with one squeeze. 

And here was Guillermo, uncertain of whether or not Annika would be conscious of him in this form, and completely without any squeaky toys. 

The vampiress just grinned at him, due to both the position she was leaving him in and the satisfaction of seeing that fear in his eyes once more, transformed herself into a bat, and shot up through the hole she’d come in through at the top of the coach. 

Annika, meanwhile, let out a loud roar, lunged herself forward, ripped open the ceiling of the coach like tissue paper, and climbed out into the open air in a flurry of claws and teeth- after the vampiress, Guillermo assumed, confident enough now that she still saw him as an ally.

It was about this time that all the collective noise had become too much to bear for certain passengers; Nandor had swiftly appeared in the hall with varying levels of complaints. 

There wasn’t time for Guillermo to care, or even really  _ hear _ them, because who even knew what was going on outside the train, how many cohorts that vampire had brought  _ this _ time, and also there was a very cool looking automatic crossbow in a glass case just in front of him. He wasted little time rushing over, shattering it open with his elbow. 

“Guillermo-...!” Nandor exclaimed, and though his following words would be lecturing in intent, the tone would carry an air of...curiosity? Intrigue? As if he didn’t  _ entirely _ disapprove. “That’s very destructive…” 

Also unaware, it seemed, to the various bits of destruction that had already befallen the train car anyway. 

Guillermo  _ so _ wished he had more time to appreciate the crossbow- sturdy, tipped with shining silver, accompanied with arrows containing vials of holy water that burst on impact. How many vampires had it killed, he wondered? It was going to be slaying a few anyway, he hoped, before the night was over. 

“Hoist me up.” 

It was the first and only thing Guillermo had said since his companions’ reappearance in the hall, and it was directed solely at Nandor. 

“Hoist y-...where exactly am I supposed to be  _ hoisting _ you? And why? And also what does the crossbow have to do with it?” 

Nandor had nevertheless made his way over and gripped either side of Guillermo’s waist, just as they had so many times before when dusting a chandelier or otherwise unreachable object. He had always been very helpful like that, to his credit. 

“The  _ hole _ ! In the  _ ceiling _ !” 

He hadn’t meant to sound so demanding in response to Nandor’s assistance, something he knew he’d have to amend later as his former master mumbled out an offended, “ _ Alright _ then…” and lifted him without issue to grab purchase. 

“Guillermo, I realize I’m not your master and can no longer force your hand…” Nandor said, somewhat sheepish. “But whatever you’re intending to do seems quite foolish, particularly for a fragile human. If it’s an evening stroll you need, perhaps at the next station-”

Guillermo whipped his gaze around, compelled by a force that was not of his own, and spoke words he had never thought, nor intended to say, in a voice that was still his but amplified. 

“I am  _ not _ a human.” 

Nandor appeared to be almost blown back by the power of whatever had overtaken him, but still, curiously, not so much that he had let go of Guillermo and let him fall. His grip remained firm, even as his jaw slacked. 

Guillermo felt a return to himself, like taking in a gulp of air.

“I-...I’m sorry, I don’t know what that-” 

“Guillermo,” Nandor marveled, but somewhat in horror. “Your eyes, they-...they changed. They were so bright...sparkling...as if to be made of diamonds. How’d you do that?” 

Guillermo looked to Nandor, and he to him for a moment, completely unsure of how to respond, positioned still as they were in that awkward placement- Guillermo having to look over his shoulder, Nandor holding him high off the ground with his hands encircling his hips. That isn’t to say they hadn’t been in many strange, awkward, uncomfortable positions before in their ten years of acquaintance, but now it seemed to demand the company of earth-shattering revelations as well, and that made it all very...intense, perhaps. 

Or perhaps that was owed to whatever battle Annika had instigated on top of the train, as it was then that the coach bumped and swayed so hard it felt as if it might tip. Guillermo was more than aware of Nandor changing his grasp to one of arms wrapped completely, protectively around his midsection when the incident occurred. 

“Guillermo…” Nandor said again, with the air Guillermo recognized of preparing to ask a question he may not want the answers to. “Are we in trouble again?” 

“.... _ uhh _ ….” 

Guillermo glanced frantically from Nandor to the hole in the ceiling he already had a grip on, he just needed Nandor to push...but how to explain what was going on in a way he would understand? 

“Think you’re still decent with a sword?” 

It was the first thing that came to him, and something that seemed a risky gamble to take given Nandor’s pride when it came to his military prowess. But then, Guillermo knew best what drove his former Master. No one better. 

“Am I still-...?? You served me ten years and you  _ dare _ to ask me such a question??” 

Despite having served him  _ eleven _ years, Guillermo could not remember one instance Nandor  _ intentionally _ trained with his swords. Cleaned them, yes. Smacked Laszlo various times with them? Sure. But training, or behaving in any way with them that might have improved his abilities was unheard of. 

So, he had no idea if Nandor would still be at all proficient in combat, but he  _ was _ a vampire so that counted for something. 

“You’re right, I’m  _ so _ forgetful,” Guillermo feigned accession. “You’re amazing at it, which is perfect, because you’re going to grab one off the wall and come with me. Push me up.”

Nandor was very impulsive and, seemingly, more receptive to definitive commands than one might have guessed. As such, Guillermo wasn’t surprised when he did as he was told even through his own verbalized confusion, pushing him upwards and far enough that he could hoist the rest of his body to the top of the train car. The biting, snowy winds hit him like knives almost immediately. 

He hadn’t accounted for the forces of nature. 

“Guillermo, what  _ exactly _ are we doing?” 

At least, that sounded like what Nandor had said as he looked up at him with wide, concerned eyes that might have been more effecting if Guillermo wasn’t currently on the top of a moving train, the frozen wind lashing around him. He was pleased, at least, to see that Nandor had obeyed his further instructions to fetch the sword on the wall he’d seen earlier. 

“Going to battle!” Guillermo shouted back, the best and most succinct answer he could think of, and reached out his hand. 

  
  
  



	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has it all; fights on a moving train, lassezlo und nadIA, lesbian vampires, romantic tension, geckos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more notes this time around. We're getting waaay more into the world of Van Helsing (2004) in this chapter, so, if it pleases you, do imagine Richard Roxburgh reprising his role as Count Dracula, especially while Nadja and Laszlo sing. I think it's a particularly hilarious mental image that writing just doesn't do justice. In that same vein, I've added a song from the film's original soundtrack, Transylvanian Horses, to the Crosses We Bear playlist on Spotify, linked in an earlier chapter. This piece hits all the same notes as Guillermo's incoming train fight- if you like having background music while reading, I highly recommend it. Hopefully also y'all will enjoy my spin on the typical 'brides of Dracula' from numerous media, original novel included. I thought they could use a more modern spin. 
> 
> Lastly, I realize there are a lot of vague plot holes left at the end of this chapter, simply because I felt like it was getting too long to have the narrative to explain them all. We'll get to them! I promise! Just enjoy gecko-Colin for now. He is, after all, adorable.

“Once again. From the top.” 

The command rang out to every corner of the dark, cavernous halls of the palace, even as the speaker used a casual, absent tone of voice. He had his back turned to them, after all, seemingly far more preoccupied with the documents brought to him by a dutiful servant- a familiar, really, often appearing as one of an assortment of disheveled, malnourished, possibly tortured humans that worked for him in exchange for the release of a family member, or to stay alive. He seemed to have hundreds, if not thousands of them milling around. Sometimes, he would casually pluck one from whatever they were doing, bite into their neck as unassumingly as a human does to an apple, drink his fill, and then leave the corpse for the other familiar-servants to collect.

Even for Laszlo and Nadja, it was unspeakably barbaric and in very poor taste...but then, they had never known  _ Count Vladislaus Dragulia _ to be anything else, and they did know him  _ very _ well. 

“And to think...I used to  _ like _ when he used the silver rope.” 

Nadja moaned, helpless and ineffective, to her husband, who was restricted beside her similarly to the grand piano. 

“Indeed,” Laszlo agreed with a grumble, as his past explorations with the Count had involved the same instruments. “The seat plug in the bum used to be a lovely treat as well, but not for  _ four hours on _ without relent.” 

Nadja quirked an eyebrow. She certainly hadn’t been given any such torture device herself- then, that was likely due to her being forced to stand and sing at the mic. 

“ **_Once again, I said!_ ** ” The Count roared again, this time turning in an elegant swirl on his heel to face them with stark red eyes as his voice seemed to shake the very stone walls around them. Nadja and Laszlo fell silent. A little afraid. A little aroused. 

But the Count recovered quickly from his outburst, ran a hand over his brow to replace a stray piece of sable-black hair, schooled his features into something more subtly menacing. 

“Nadja. Laszlo.” 

He purred their names as he had done many times before, in much less clothed situations, making them both shiver and stare at him with rapt attention. 

“Do you...take some kind of  _ issue _ with our agreement?” 

The Count seemed to move with every ounce of grace that could ever be granted a vampire, like some unholy cross between the fluidity of a snake, the seamlessness of a panther. He could be on you, behind you, teeth in your neck, claws embedded in your skin, before you were even  _ mutely _ aware of his existence. 

He was dangerous. Sexy, certainly. But also dangerous. 

In this moment, Nadja didn’t care.

_ “Agreement? _ ” she shrieked, trying to wave out the mic in her fist with indignation, but hissed a little when the silver ropes hindered her. “This is hardly a fair  _ agreement _ , you kidnapped my husband and I while in a passionate embrace among the hedges and have been forcing us to perform ever since! It’s an outrage!”

Laszlo was murmuring careful, warning whispers to her to cease and desist (as if that had  _ ever _ worked), but the Count took her tirade in stride. He instead grinned, chuckled under his breath, wagged his finger ‘no’ as if scolding a pet, and advanced towards them on the stage. 

“My poor Nadja…” he crooned. “She always did have the memory of a goldfish.” 

“I say, now-...see here, chap, that’s my wife you’re talking about-” Laszlo attempted, for chivalry’s sake, even as his limbs shook. 

“ **_Enough_ ** .” The Count decided with another low, echoing growl. And so it would be, at least for the two of them. 

“It  _ is _ an agreement,” The Count continued after a time, once again eerily calm. “Because I gave you a choice. Mmm? Play for my galas and be humiliated, routinely, to all vampire-kind until I decide otherwise...or die. Personally, I am  _ so glad _ you chose the path of a long, tortuous existence. I can think of no better punishment. But then, if I remember correctly, you do both rather enjoy that kind of thing.” 

He treated them both to a long, sultry look that spoke of intimate, sexy, wild things they’d all done in the past, just before sauntering back off the stage, to his former placement as ‘director’.

“So play!” He bid them, throwing a hand mockingly into the air. “Play your abysmal music, play it as you did for the hordes of pathetic, driveling humans, all the while licking the blood of your fellow vampires from your lips.” He scoffed, tore his eyes away from them in disgust. “It makes me  _ sick _ . To think, I gave you both the utmost pleasure, time and time again-...and you were  _ beyond _ undeserving!” 

Nadja and Laszlo shared a look of mutual offense. It wasn’t as if he had done _ all _ the work. 

Another pointed glare was shot towards them then, so played they did. They chose, of course, the Seafaring Song of 1792. It had worked out for them before, right?

“Aruba, Jamaica, oooo, I wanna take ya….” Nadja attempted through a wavering, reluctant voice. Laszlo’s piano playing was a bit less on-point than usual as well, as he bounced around the keys, fumbled notes. 

The Count, however,  _ loved _ this, and took in a deep, satisfied breath as if sniffing the wine of the gods. 

“ _ Yeeess… _ ” he hissed. “A veritable cacophony of caterwauling and poor instrumentation. Inane lyricism.  _ The Human Music Group _ . My guests will find this entertainment  _ most _ hilarious.”

Nadja had just gotten to the part about the Florida Keys when this was said. Foolishly, perhaps, she stopped singing and turned to Laszlo. 

“My darling, I don’t want us to become laughing stocks of the vampire world-...! If they knew about The Human Music Group...” 

“Steady on there, my love,” Laszlo assured, still trying, despite everything, to keep playing the notes as best he could. “He’s just full of hot air, that’s all. When the time comes nigh, we’ll-” 

Trying to whisper secret plans around a vampire is never a good idea, particularly if that vampire happens to be the King of them all. Laszlo and Nadja, as they were wont to do, underestimated the Count’s investment in his own personal monologue. He had heard them, alright- heard them clear enough to suddenly be in the space between them, his powers sending both of them hovering in the air, throats constricted. 

It wouldn’t kill them, but it was  _ very _ uncomfortable. And also they could no longer talk intelligibly, so that was probably a factor of this assault as well. 

“You have  _ always _ been a laughing stock,” The Count corrected in his new position, tightening his hold. “We were keen to accept your existence in our circles once. Even crude, craven fools can be delightful, charming company in their way- not unlike how the human keeps around the dog, hmm? But when his hound bites him...what does the human do?” 

He tightened his hold yet again, as if to emphasize his point. 

“ **_What does the human do??_ ** ” he asked again, slower, louder, more demanding, begging an answer that he knew wouldn’t be delivered. At least, not by them. 

He kept them in this hold a bit longer, long enough that Nadja had begun clawing for the hold on her neck that was no more corporeal than it was anything she could tear away. Laszlo, however, might have been slightly enjoying himself as the...visible evidence would suggest. The Count decided eventually to drop them, hard, back on the stage and right on their asses. 

He looked down at both of them with a sneer. 

“You are  _ fortunate _ I chose not to put you out to pasture. At least...not yet. When that day comes...they will hear your screams to the village below, from nightfall until the first rise of the sun. In the meantime...more gratitude,  _ please _ .” 

* * *

“I don’t need help.” 

Nandor scoffed this out at Guillermo’s outstretched hand - which he’d done for the purpose of grabbing the sword (he already had), not to help him up - and transformed himself into a bat to manage his way up and out of the coach. Guillermo was fine to indulge him in this little last minute act of defiance, stretched as he knew Nandor’s patience had been since the start of this journey, but as it happened, Nandor definitely  _ did _ need Guillermo’s help by the time he had emerged outside. 

A small bat didn’t really stand much of a chance against sudden, harsh, 100 miles per hour frozen gales, after all. Guillermo caught bat-Nandor in his hands before he could blow away completely. 

“Maybe you ought to stay like that,” Guillermo suggested to the ball of fur and leathery wings cradled in his hands. Nandor squeaked out an argument. “Just for a little while. It’ll be easier if you stay in my pocket.” 

Nandor wasn’t the most graceful of creatures, after all, be him in humanoid form or otherwise, and keeping his balance on a moving train, while possibly fending off immortal attackers, seemed like a recipe for disaster- even if he  _ could _ fly. The Nandor-Bat made a few more squeaky complaints and defiantly flapped his little wings, but as he hadn’t yet changed back Guillermo took this as allowance enough. 

Gently as he could under the circumstances, Guillermo nestled Nandor in the pocket of his trenchcoat, slid the sword into his belt, and loaded up the crossbow. 

Getting a solid, standing position on the moving train was difficult, but after a fashion, and much wobbling, Guillermo rose to his feet...just in time to see a flurry of activity, the gleam of claws a few cars ahead of him, another crash and bump of the coaches. 

“Slow and steady…” he murmured to himself as he took a few careful steps forward, every force around him working in tandem to make stability as difficult as possible. Nevertheless he advanced, even managed stepping over the space between two coaches to get to the next. He was drawing closer to the action, hopefully closer to the vampiress that had been on their tail since the start. The only light he had for guidance was the glow of the lamps on the side of the coaches, the brief shimmers of moonlight that appeared only when a cloud heavy with snow had passed to the side, and yet...it didn’t seem to hinder his sight, whatsoever.  _ Him _ , of all people- nearsighted, four-eyed Guillermo De La Cruz that, for as long as he could remember, could barely make out shapes without his prescription lenses. 

It was too good an advantage for him to even question. At least for the time being. 

It all seemed to be going very well, maybe  _ suspiciously _ well for someone who had never navigated a moving train like this, so, naturally, there had to be  _ something _ to break his winning streak thus far. This came in the form of what looked to be a sudden, silent, dark shadow that moved like a missile, striking him on the shoulder hard enough to make him lose his footing, stumble backwards. 

He nearly fell off the train entirely- which would have meant death, as they happened to be passing over a bridge of track spanning a long gorge between mountains.

Thankfully, his fingers caught the side of the coach just before he tumbled, bringing him now to the frightening moment of hanging over the side of a fast-moving train, dangling over the precipice of a horrifying drop. 

The train continued to jostle, steam was pouring into his face and fogging up his glasses. Somehow, however, Guillermo managed to turn his head in the direction the flying shadow had gone, look up into the sky, and see before him a vampiress flying close by, cackling. It clearly wasn’t the same as the one who had been trailing him, beyond the fact that this vampire’s hair was a golden blonde, rather than dark. 

_ This _ vampiress took the form of something that was not entirely humanoid, nor entirely bat, but some odd, terrifying mixture of the two that made her look like a creature out of Grecian mythology. A harpy, perhaps. Her pale, leathery skin glowed in the brief glints of moonlight, but in a way that recalled more of a mummified corpse than anything beautiful. 

So far beyond the point of asking questions about any of this, Guillermo raised the automatic crossbow as best he could with one hand and pulled the trigger. 

The arrows flew. The vampiress ducked. They missed. Guillermo cursed a hearty ‘ay,  _ chingada _ ’ under his breath. 

This cost of this failed, calculated risk was earning the vampiress’ ire; she roared out an angry screech, flew towards him again, disappearing into a puff of cloud to emerge suddenly, striking his side so that he blew out like a plastic bag stuck to a bus, slammed against the side of the coach. 

Guillermo cried out a bit at the pain of it, but the worse the odds became, the more blows this second vampiress dealt him, the stronger and more determined he seemed to feel. 

He gritted his teeth, swung himself back over so that both hands could grab hold of the coach. He prepared to pull himself back up. 

Sharp, amber eyes met his when he looked back. Crouching on the coach as a gargoyle would was the same leathery vampiress from before, her clawed hands suddenly stabbing, sinking into his. 

“Fuck-...!” Guillermo cried out, to which she took the utmost pleasure. 

“Were you hoping to kill me, kresnik?” The vampiress taunted in a pouting, mockingly sympathetic voice. “Poor little baby hunter, struck down before he even reached the circle.” 

And she released her claws, thusly letting him go. 

Guillermo might have screamed as he fell, the wind rushing behind him, the train, the bridge, the vampiress quickly fading out of his view as the mountains swallowed him. He  _ might _ have, but it was in this moment that all went eerily silent and his mind rushed a million miles an hour trying to embrace the reality that he was about to die. 

Instead, the only permeating thought that really struck him was the somewhat calming, saddening realization that his insecurities had been right. He  _ wasn’t _ meant for this. He never had been. 

And now, because he’d been so arrogant as to think otherwise, he was going to be a thick jelly all over the Carpathian foothills. 

Well. He’d always kind of felt his life had been one long, weird, bad joke that just wouldn’t end, so at least the punchline delivered similarly. 

So, he waited. And waited. The wind continued to rush around him...but also change? That wasn’t meant to happen, was it? If he was falling downward, then surely-...

Guillermo risked opening an eye. Much to his shock, no longer was he descending fast down a long, dark chasm to his certain demise, but instead he was soaring upwards- higher and higher, faster and faster back to the train that continued down the bridge. He continued up even still, above where the vampiress still remained, clinging to the top of the coach. She had been watching his fall with enthusiasm, and so also caught his return to the ‘surface’...with, decidedly,  _ less _ amusement. 

Now it was Guillermo’s turn to see a fear-stricken face for once. 

“Now, Guillermo!” 

The voice of Nandor came unexpectedly from behind him, but rather than jump in surprise Guillermo followed the command as if it were a base instinct. He raised and aimed the crossbow, fired several consecutive shots right into the vampiress’ chest. 

Her screams resonated over the mountain range from either side, as her holy-water imbued arrow wounds crackled and popped, consumed her, until nothing remained but charred bits of skeleton that quickly blew away in the fast moving wind. 

“Yeah, that’s what you get for being a nuisance!” Nandor yelled at nothing- or rather, the space where the vampiress had been once. “Interrupting travel, causing property damage, pushing people off of trains.  _ Fucking _ girl, there IS an etiquette to these things!” 

Guillermo assumed Nandor spoke of hunting, as if the situation they were in right now could be so simple. He didn’t feel like arguing the point though, not just after Nandor  _ clearly _ saved him and continued to keep him soaring, locked safely in the grip of his hands around his midsection.

“I  _ think _ that was one of his brides,” Guillermo favored gently instead. “Dracula’s, I mean. If she  _ was _ ...that must mean he knows we’re here. I think he’s hoping to kill me before I get to Bucharest.” 

If there was any sense of foreboding to take in after that discovery, there was absolutely no time to do it now. An explosion erupted from a few cars down the line ahead of where they floated, in the general vicinity of where Annika had gone. This earned a simultaneous, long drawn out, ‘ _ shhhiiiiiiiittt _ ’ from the both of them.

“We gotta get over there,” Guillermo decided with a sigh. “There’s more of them, I know it.” 

“Your... _ kresnik _ senses kicking in again, perhaps…?” Nandor guessed, as he flew them closer to the area of chaos. Oddly, there was a slight hint of fear to his tone. 

Guillermo didn’t know how to answer, so he didn’t, and it would’ve been pointless anyway as the scene they approached now certainly didn’t leave room for conversation. 

At the final car, there was Annika again, still in werewolf form. Circling her head, taunting her, pulling at her fur, scratching her, were two more of the similarly leathery women as Guillermo had slayed earlier. The brides, of course- or what was left of them. Annika was swiping her paws out left and right, to no avail; where she was big and imposing, they were quick and slight and moved too fast for her to catch. 

Meanwhile, Guillermo could clearly see a bat, working furiously to uncouple the coaches from the rest of the train. His old friend, he guessed- or... _ one _ of them, anyway. 

“They’re trying to disconnect the train…” Guillermo muttered, for his own sake, but maybe to Nandor as well. “Over there, right there near the connectors-!” 

This, he  _ did _ mean for Nandor, and so he glided them over, just above where Guillermo intended to take aim. 

“Fuck you,” Guillermo murmered, as he positioned the crossbow, closed an eye to get better aim, and pulled the trigger. The arrows would completely destroy the bat in a second, and  _ good riddance _ , honestly. He was getting pretty tired of that vampire lady showing up, ruining things at every opportunity. 

The arrows did indeed strike, and they did indeed explode with the force of holy water and maybe whatever power had started to come out of him, but rather than turn the vampiress into bat flakes, she instead moved at the last second, causing the explosion to ruin the couplings and disconnect their coaches. 

That had been the plan, hadn’t it? He realized it only afterwards. Because, of course. 

“Idiot!!!” The brides cackled as they danced through the sky, now leaving Annika alone entirely, to push ahead, to perhaps do something to the track that awaited them. 

The focus had just abruptly changed then from one of killing vampires, to getting everyone off this train  _ right the fuck now _ . 

“Set me down,” Guillermo said to Nandor, indicating the coach where Annika remained. 

Nandor, for all his obtuseness, still seemed to grasp the gravity of the situation, indicated when he replied with a cautious, “But...Guillermo, the train-” 

“Set me down!!” Guillermo reiterated, firmer now. There wasn’t time to debate the issue. 

Nandor followed instructions once again, placing Guillermo cautiously on the top of the coach, eyeing the tired, haggard werewolf-Annika with trepidation. 

Guillermo continued as the wind whipped their hair into their mouths, “Go get Colin, Dominik, the camera crew- they’re still inside.” 

This time Nandor paused, and his ex-familiar could clearly read the warring of concern on his face at following this order.

“Nandor,” Guillermo pushed, shoving the sword from before into his arms. “You have to go  _ now _ .” 

And then when he still didn’t, when he still remained with his mouth gawping open and closed as if he wanted to make a good argument against this, Guillermo had the option of favoring either impatience or something gentler. 

The latter would require him to accept and assume that Nandor was afraid to leave him alone. 

“I’ll be  _ fine _ ,” Guillermo insisted, and without really realizing it, he tightened his fingers a bit around Nandor’s, where they both held the sword. “I promise. Just...get them off the train, while there’s still time.” 

Finally, blessedly, Nandor gave a reluctant nod, held Guillermo’s gaze for a moment...and then was gone, back to the partially destroyed coach. 

It was also at this time that a blast of fire nearly blew Guillermo off his feet, emerging from the bit of track that was the rest of the bridge. The detached engine and main coaches were already far ahead of them on the other side of the gorge, and they coasted on naught but the residual force...which would now be sending them back down where Guillermo nearly met his demise. 

In desperation he launched for Annika, gripping her fur in his fingers as she labored for breath. The injury caused by the brides was evident to him now, in the lacerations and blood that soaked her alabaster fur. 

“Annika…!” Guillermo tried to rouse her, in a voice that was both hurried but intentionally avoidant of sounding aggressive. He still didn’t know how much control she wielded in this form. “Annika, please...we gotta get off of here right now.” 

She continued to heave a bit, exhausted as she must have been from the effort and the attacks she’d suffered….until that heavy breathing became a deep growl as well. She slowly turned on him. Guillermo released his grip, began to back up. 

Her red eyes were fiery, animalistic, speaking of a thirst for someone to pay for what had been done to her, knowing only that she was in pain and furious. If she’d recognized Guillermo before, she didn’t now. 

“Annika...” he said again, his throat getting thick in fear of the danger that awaited them and the one now beginning to rise up on her haunches. “It’s me. The Kresnik.” 

It meant nothing. A loud roar emerged from the bottom of her chest, a huge, muscled arm raised with claws retracted. 

Guillermo focused. He banished, willed away any fear that threatened to grip him, locked his eyes with hers, searched resolutely within himself for the same power that had given strength to his crucifix, the same that had startled Nandor earlier. 

It must have worked. It must have once again turned his eyes ‘shimmering’ or whatever Nandor had said, or gotten through to some barrier in the werewolf mind, but Annika immediately softened like any dog that had been reprimanded for tearing up the toilet paper. Her pointed ears flattened to her head, she sunk in a bit on herself with an apologetic, canine whimper.

The temptation was there to calm her with a ‘that’s a good girl’ or something to the effect, but he didn’t yet know the etiquette as concerned werewolf form and he didn’t want to be accused of infantilizing women, after all.

Also, he was still painfully aware of how quickly their series of coaches were approaching the new gap in the track. 

“Can you get us to the other side?” 

He looked to Annika pleadingly, hoping she’d understand. 

She grabbed the fabric of his trenchcoat in her jaws, swung him sharply to the side so that he landed (not well) on her back. 

And then she jumped, soaring from the coach, the bridge, to the large but hopefully manageable leap across to the other side of the gorge. 

Guillermo gripped into her fur for dear life and shut his eyes tight. 

* * *

  
  
  


They finally had some peace from him for a few hours, when the Count decided their ‘rehearsals’ were getting a bit boring and sauntered off to impale some people or...whatever it is he did with his spare time. 

Nadja and Laszlo didn’t really care, not as much as they did about figuring a way out of here. 

“I wouldn’t worry too much, my darling,” Laszlo assured her as they sat in their holding cell. To be fair, their ‘holding cell’ was a very nice guest room in the upper wing of the castle, with enchanted doors and windows that prevented ever leaving but for the Count’s say-so; it wasn’t like they were  _ uncomfortable _ . “Nandor and Colin Robinson would’ve done  _ something _ by now, I’m certain of it.” 

Nadja looked to him, unimpressed, unconvinced. 

“What, you mean aside from _ tripping over their own dicks _ ?” she sighed, with the same amount of palpable anger aimed at Colin and Nandor’s perceived uselessness. “No, my love. Forgive my lack of patience, but our flatmates are about as useful as a goat with only two back legs.” 

Laszlo nodded in accession because, well...she was right. She usually was, he was just trying to be optimistic. 

“Well...what about Gizmo?” he ventured after a time, when his wife’s frustration and turmoil at their situation became too much for him to bear. “He  _ is _ quite the adept little assassin...”

Nadja looked at him again, this time as if he’d confidently suggested they both stick their heads into vats of garlic butter. 

“Oh yes!” she replied, sarcastic. “Quite the assassin, alright-  _ vampire _ assassin, to be exact! I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d already made a stupid, open-mouthed throw rug out of Nandor!”

But that had been Laszlo’s  _ point _ , of course; little Gizmo, for whatever reason, had the gift of absolutely demolishing hordes of vampires without much issue. If  _ anyone _ could give Vlad a run for his money... 

And what’s more, though Nadja usually was the bearer of practical, if not hard to swallow truths, Laszlo wasn’t certain Gizmo would so quickly turn against his former master in such a violent way- and therefore, perhaps, he would not turn against _ them _ . 

“I...don’t think so, my dear,” he said, to which Nadja kind of paused, as if she was considering the accusation closer as well. 

There was a lot they didn’t understand, know, or care about when it came to Guillermo and Nandor’s dynamic. Now, knowing exactly  _ how strong _ those bonds of loyalty were might have meant the difference between their immortal life and final death. To believe that maybe,  _ maybe _ Guillermo cared enough about Nandor to not turn against them, to maybe even...come and save them…? It was a nice thought. There was enough doubt to believe it might be true. 

But in keeping with internal monologues being prematurely cut off in this story, they were soon interrupted by the grating, horrifying sounds of shrieks coming from the main wing, just outside the door. 

Screams, of course, weren’t unusual in the Count’s castle where people were usually being killed or tortured in one way or another, but  _ these _ shrieks….they were different, somehow. Agonizing. Grief-stricken. They were clear enough to sound as if they could’ve come from the very room they were in now. 

Nadja and Laszlo clapped their hands over their ears, fell to their knees in the pain of having to endure such a noise while having hyper-sensitive hearing. 

Almost as soon as it had begun, it had stopped, and was now replaced with the muffled sounds of back-and-forth arguments down below. 

“This place is an  _ unrelenting, constantly spinning  _ carousel of torture!” Laszlo grumbled, letting out some of his frustration by throwing a candlestick at the wall. 

“It always has been,” Nadja reminded him. “Except now, it isn’t any fun.” 

She threw her arms out in exasperation, as if they’d been short-changed at a register or some such thing. 

They might have been willing to return back to their silent wallowing in the futility of it all, particularly once they were suddenly joined in the room by two  _ very angry _ vampiresses. 

Nadja and Laszlo then remembered the Count had been  _ married _ when they all got up to their fun, and the concern about his Brides discovering his various casual lovers was a constant point of fear. The Brides of Count Dragulia were known to be as powerful and as terrifying as him (if not more so, arguably), and they certainly didn’t take to people fooling around with their husband. 

That’s what Nadja and Laszlo had been certain they’d be dealing with, so when the dark-haired wife fell to her knees and cried out a pained, “My darling!!! My wife!! You killed her!!!”, they were more than a little bit confused. 

“Uhm...pardon me,” Nadja attempted to the vampiress kneeling dramatically before her. “I think my husband and I are a little confused as to the relationship dynamics here-” 

But Laszlo came out with it, “Are you  _ not _ the Count’s concubines?” 

The two vampiresses hissed, gagged at each other as if in disgust at the very suggestion. 

“She is the  _ Countess Alexandrina _ !” the other, flame-haired ‘wife’ explained with every bit of incredulousness. “Vlad’s  _ sister _ . _ I  _ am  _ her _ lawfully married wife, the Lady Cataline.” 

“And I had another,” the Countess growled, now advancing on Laszlo and Nadja with bared teeth. “Marta was beautiful, intelligent, passionate...and now your horrible little friends have  _ destroyed _ a half of my heart.”

Nadja and Laszlo shared a brief look of shock. Their  _ horrible little friends _ …? That could only mean one thing. 

Gizmo, Nandor, maybe even Colin, were coming for them after all, and they seemed to be leaving a trail of dead, dramatic vampires in their wake. 

The Countess waved her hand in disgust, turned away from them. 

“I would kill you now, if I could. I should. I  _ should _ do it.” 

The second wife seemed only to want to encourage her spouse’s bloodlust. She clung to the Countess’ arm, whispered loud enough in her ear for  _ everyone _ to hear. 

“You will, Drina, my love,” she assured, with a knowing grin at the other married couple. “You will kill them when it is time. But first, we should kill the kresnik, his traitorous vampire companion. We should make  _ them _ watch.”

The Countess seemed restored, enthusiastic about this idea. 

“Yes,” she nodded. “When it is time. It is my duty to vampire kind.” 

They turned back on Nadja and Laszlo, the Countess spinning on her heel in much the same way Vlad had done, but with a much more feminine, ethereal, terrifying beauty and power. 

Like brother, like sister. Nadja and Laso were once again confusingly aroused. 

“When it is time,” she reiterated. “For now...I must deal with my foolish brother.” 

And the two wives were gone in a sweeping flurry of their diaphanous gowns, leaving Nadja and Laszlo to privately deal with the consequences of being spoken to in such a way by sultry, highly attractive, murderous women. 

* * *

  
  


The powdery, soft clumps of snow that thickened the ground somewhat broke their fall, but it was still a rather hard landing from the leap Annika had taken from the coach to the other side of the gorge. Guillermo felt the hard impact of Annika’s paws finally touching land, then the complete detachment of him from her back, to some hard thumps and bumps as he rolled and finally came to a painful stop as his back collided with a tree.

He gasped out a curse, somewhere between ‘ _ puta _ ’ and ‘ _ ay dios _ ’ and hissed through his teeth, but any pain he was feeling from the bumpy landing, to what he had endured during the train fight, was significantly numbed in the wake of remembering his companions. 

Nandor, specifically, if he was honest. 

He scrambled to his feet as best he could, sending flurries of snow out around him, forgetting entirely for a moment that Annika should be somewhere nearby. 

At the edge of the cliff, through the trees, he could see the gap in the destroyed bit of track. He could see the kresnik coaches still coasting along, not slowing down enough to stop, going and going until…

When the series of coaches hit the bottom of the gorge, there was a loud explosion and a ball of fire, dust and detritus. Guillermo might not have heard it though, as his ears were ringing so loud, his heart thumping against his chest so hard it felt like it might pop out entirely.

Where  _ the fuck _ was Nandor? He should have been here with them by now. 

It was honestly getting kind of hard to breathe by the time Guillermo’s rational thought began to kick in. The likelihood of the situation, after all, said that they just hadn’t made it. Nandor hadn’t been quick enough. Maybe the wives had found a way to kill them from the inside. 

But then, there was always the possibility, however slight, that they  _ had _ made it. Either way, there wasn’t anything he could do now.

Guillermo stumbled, dumbly, from the view of the trees back to where he’d finally fallen earlier, no real destination in mind and no real thoughts other than the two possibilities he was trying to mentally grapple with. 

How easy it had been, he realized, to accept his own, seemingly definitive death. The acceptance of Nandor’s, however, was too terrible, too nausea-inducing to even really consider. 

He didn’t have to right away, as distraction came in the form of Annika’s pained grumbling a few trees down. Guillermo flew to her with desperation, something,  _ anything _ else to think about right now than the emotional limbo overwhich his heart hung. 

“You okay?” he asked as he attempted to help her to her (now human) feet, his voice still nevertheless deflated. Though his vision was much clearer out here in the shadowy forest than he remembered it being before, it was still difficult to discern the exact severity of her injuries without a good light. 

Annika didn’t seem too bothered though, beyond mildly annoyed. Also she was naked, he was now realizing, as she rose from the snow. 

Guillermo made quick work of shucking off his trenchcoat and throwing it over her shoulders; beyond modesty’s sake, it had to have been below zero outside  _ with  _ freezing wind gusts.

“Ugh,  _ bloodsuckers _ ,” she huffed, spitting out a bit of her own blood as if it were a nasty tasting soup, tightening the coat around her shoulders. “They always fight dirty.” 

“Look, Annika, we need to-....” 

Guillermo sort of trailed off from his usual practice of herding people along. It occurred to him then that he didn’t really know what they  _ needed  _ to do. Did they wait around awhile to see if Nandor and the rest had made it? Guillermo couldn’t imagine it was a good idea to keep themselves exposed to the elements for much longer, not in this kind of weather. 

And yet, despite it all, something cried out in him to remain. Just to see. Just to be  _ certain _ . He feared being certain more than anything else. 

“Kresnik…” she said with a palpable sense of impending doom. “...where is Dominik? ….what’s become of him…?” 

Guillermo took a deep breath, swallowed around the largest lump in his throat. It was the last thing he wanted to admit, to himself, to anyone else, but the longer they remained here without a sign to the alternative…

“He, uh…” He tried to blink away the hot tears building in his eyes. They’d freeze on his face, for sure. “I don’t think they- uhm…” 

He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t say it. Annika didn’t seem any more eager to hear the words come out of his mouth either, and it seemed needless anyway as her blood-soaked hand slowly made its way over her mouth as she began to shake. 

“It’ll be okay!” Guillermo insisted, maybe now glad to have someone he could focus on comforting that wasn’t himself. “It’ll be-...we’ll figure it out, it’ll be-...” 

But that was just as hard to believe as the possibility that they were wrong. 

Grief threatened to swallow him then. Perhaps that was the one monster a Kresnik  _ couldn’t _ best. 

“Hey, why’re you guys just standing out in the snow, blubbering?” 

Guillermo went rigid in shock. Either he was feeling delirious from all they’d endured so far, or he’d just clearly heard the voice of Colin Robinson asking a stupid, obvious question. From the wide-eyed look on Annika’s face, she had heard it too. 

“Colin…?” Guillermo swept his gaze around the entirety of the forest perimeter, unable to see any sign of where the voice had originated from. And then more to himself and Annika than anyone else, “Weird...you’d think the moonlight would reflect off his big bald head or something…” 

“Up here, ya prick.” 

Guillermo looked up at a tree branch a few steps away from them. Sitting there on a branch, his bulbous eyes narrowed and tail twitching in irritation, was Colin Robinson in his recognizable gecko form. He didn’t use it often, but of course Guillermo had occupied the Staten Island house long enough to know who he was looking at. 

It also might have been one of the few times in their history Guillermo had ever been sincerely happy to see him- the other occasion being when Nadja, Laszlo and Nandor were caught at the bottom of the well following the trial...and Nandor’s sacrifice to save his familiar’s skin.

“Colin…!” Guillermo cried out, rushing over and taking the unwilling gecko into his hands. “Oh my god, Colin, how’d you-...where’s-...?” 

His gaze drifted from where Colin was still recoiling and glaring, and probably complaining, in his palms, to the figures moving towards them, just ahead of the clearing in the trees. 

The moonlight made them clearer. The camera crew (all of them, shockingly, even if they were a bit worse for wear and without some of their equipment), then Dominik with shredded clothes, appearing as if he may have had to revert to his werewolf form at some point, and finally…

Nandor landed a bit farther away, in a pool of moon glow that shone off the piles of snow. His gaze was focused on Guillermo, and Guillermo’s on his, and they stayed like this for a time, mouths hanging open in disbelief like a pair of dead fish.

Guillermo got rid of Colin at some point. It was possible he dropped him, or maybe he put him delicately back on the branch, but he didn’t remember or really  _ care _ , because now he was just rushing towards the vampire he thought he’d never see again. The friend he thought he’d lost. 

No concern for Nandor’s reluctance to even touch him without necessity in the past, no concern for the audience that surrounded them. 

Guillermo launched himself at his former Master and found, much to his surprise, arms encircling him in kind. 

“Guillermo…!” Nandor breathed, almost like a sigh of relief into the space between his shoulder and neck. “I wasn’t sure…! I didn’t know…!” 

Guillermo said nothing, because Nandor had said it all. He  _ hadn’t _ known, and that uncertainty alone had been the worst burden to bear thus far. The implications of what that all meant, and confusion as to why his first, base instinct was to throw himself into his former master’s arms once having realized he’d survived, were all things he’d end up mulling over later. 

For now, he finally felt like he could breathe again. 

And all that rush of relief and emotion in being pressed to Nandor the way he was currently, seemed to blind him from the reality of the situation as per his companions. 

From an outsider’s perspective, it went like this; Guillermo rushed into Nandor’s arms. Nandor embraced him. Nandor and Guillermo continued to hold one another as Nandor had floated them both up into the sky and twirled around a bit, like a wife reuniting with her husband after war (if they could fly). Needless to say, it was a bit awkward for all others involved. 

Guillermo and Nandor continued their obliviousness to their audience, as they naturally drifted back down to earth, pulled away from one another just a fraction. 

“I didn’t want to leave you,” Nandor admitted, with some amount of evident shame, but Guillermo wasn’t sure it came from an admission of this vulnerability or maybe a perceived lack of faith, or guilt at having done what he needed to. “It all seemed so... _ dangerous _ . I didn’t know if you’d be okay.”

Yeah, to say the least. Guillermo couldn’t help but shake his head and huff out a laugh, partially from the humor of the understatement, partially out disbelieving, relieved mirth. 

“We’re okay now,” he assured, squeezing Nandor’s arms. “We’re all okay.” 

That mention of ‘all’ seemed to remind the both of them they weren’t currently alone, and so after sharing a grimace in realization of what had just happened, they both reluctantly moved to glance over at their companions. 

Colin was back in his humanoid form, squinting somewhat shocked and disgusted at the lack of their awareness. Annika looked bewildered, confused, and a bit frozen. Dominik had the exact same expression Guillermo’s Mom got when she  _ knew _ he’d done something wrong and was just waiting for him to admit it and explain himself, emphasized by his arms crossed over his chest. The camera crew already had the film rolling, catching the breadth of the surrounding reactions. 

And Guillermo supposed there  _ was _ going to be a bit to explain now, and perhaps the whole vampire-prisoner jig was up. 

Nevertheless, Nandor still pushed away from Guillermo’s embrace, dusted himself off, and seemed to revert to favoring his usual tactic of pretending any proximity to his ex-familiar was revolting and unthinkable. 

Despite himself, Guillermo was a bit shocked. Disappointed, perhaps. In a moment, he was angry. Even now, Nandor couldn’t bring himself to-...well, be  _ honest _ . 

He instead turned from Nandor sharply, any gleeful relief he’d felt at knowing he’d survived the train crash now zapped. 

“We need to figure out our next step,” he addressed the group, bitter, as he slung the crossbow over his back, neglecting to address any of what had just happened. 

Dominik pointed towards the horizon, which had begun to lighten, pinken a bit in color. 

“The sunrise, kresnik,” he said, flatly, his voice thick with accusation. “I  _ assume _ it still concerns you.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  



	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The nice reprieve from traveling becomes anything but where repressed feelings are concerned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is weird. I know it is. There's going to be some new bombshells dropped in this one, some glimpses into characters we haven't learned much about yet, and -not so randomly, I promise- the appearance of another classic, Universal movie monster, in the style of the other subject material (Van Helsing 2004) that this story encompasses. Even so, this chapter mostly focuses on the changing dynamic between Nandor and Guillermo, so if you're feeling a bit confused as to where these other subplots are going, fear not. It's coming. I just didn't want this chapter to be hideously long lol. (And again, let me take the opportunity to HIGHLY recommend watching the 2004 Van Helsing film beyond it giving some context to things that will happen in this fic- it really is just...so much fun. I don't think you'll regret it if you like horror/adventure themes tied together and a surly, but loveable chad character in Gabriel Van Helsing lmao) 
> 
> In the meantime, do you want some FCs? Natasha (the vampiress that has been trailing the group since the plane, as you'll soon read) is cast as Mallory Jansen in my head. Boris is Rory McCann. For sure. Also- where these two are concerned, keep in mind that I really had no idea who they were going to be or what their ultimate purpose was before this chapter when bigger plot elements started to fall into place in my mind. They may seem a bit different, but hopefully better. 
> 
> Ok. I think I'm done? Thank you so much for all the wonderful feedback and support of this fun little epic I use for escapist purposes. It gives me serotonin of the kind that can fuel me for weeks.

Natasha stood in the cramped, albeit newly designed elevator with her arms crossed, shoulder slung against the wall, nails rapping. She was not in a mood for nonsense today -that much was clear from the loud, irritated sucking of her fangs- but as she had to once again deal with the Count and his horrible sister, it was certain that’s what she’d get. 

Boris, her professional vampiric partner and sometimes bodyguard, stood behind her, staring blankly at the wall ahead. She had wondered before what it must be like to have a mind completely devoid of any thought other than ‘kill’ and ‘stand there like a statue’, but decided in the end it didn’t much matter. Though Boris hadn’t been her personal choice (rather, an appointment given by Countess Alexandrina purely for the sake of being able to make  _ Rocky and Bullwinkle _ jokes any time they entered a room), he was still  _ very good _ at his intended purpose. Most of the time, anyway. She was fine to do the thinking for both of them, so long as he remained strong enough to continue breaking men’s backs over his knee on command. 

“We could have  _ had _ them then…” she grumbled out to no one in particular. “Right there, on the train. On the  _ bloody _ train-...!” 

Overwhelmed with the frustration of it all, she kicked her heel into the side of the elevator (wincing somewhat afterwards because it  _ had  _ hurt). Boris gradually gave her a look of gentle disapproval. 

“You should be careful, Miss,” he coaxed in his deep, drone-y baritone that reminded her of an elephant trudging through mud. “The Master won’t like it if you ruin his new toy.” 

“ _ His new toy _ …” she scoffed, inspecting her heel to make sure she hadn’t actually broken it in the process. “If he spent more time on our existential threats and less on this stupid, human technology-...I mean, we’re vampires. We fly. It’s ridiculous.” 

The argument was flawed, of course, because just being able to fly didn’t mean one could easily access the upper floors of a building that was not constructed with vampires in mind- so,  _ all  _ of them. 

But Natasha wasn’t concerned with logic, not when the kresnik had eluded her once again, not when she could have had him. She  _ could _ have. He’d have been long dead on the bottom of the gorge by now if they had just gone with  _ her _ plan. 

“I will  _ not _ let the Countess be the death of us all, Boris,” she promised, but more to herself than anything- Boris was usually good at being a mute listener, sort of a conversation stand-in so her personal monologues didn’t have to be left in her head. “...I’m doing it today.” 

His eyebrows rose, slowly. Everything he did was slow when he wasn’t in the middle of killing people. 

“Don’t you talk me out of it,” she warned, pointing a finger at him. “The Kresnik was  _ supposed _ to be dead by now...we should have done on the plane, but-...an energy vampire. I didn’t know. I  _ did _ on the train. I had  _ accounted _ for that.” 

Boris put a large, comforting hand on her shoulder. It had been reminder enough before not to be so hard on herself. 

But then, how could she not be when so much was at  _ stake _ ? 

While Natasha usually enjoyed that the duties to the Count took her  _ away _ from the palace (and the vampires within), more often than not, on this particular evening she was rather impatient to get to him. The gravity of their situation simply could  _ not _ be underestimated by the most influential among them. 

When they finally arrived at the Count’s current floor of choice (his ‘council’ room, which had become more of a luxurious salon in the style of a gothic Marie Antoinette over the years than anything else) they found him, the Countess, the Lady Cataline, and some of their other, nameless orbiters reclining on the pillows and chaises, well into their cups of spiked blood from humans they’d given barrels and barrels of wine. 

The Countess’ fake smile dropped rather unceremoniously when she saw her, and she gave a look at the Lady Cataline to dispense with the routine mocking- just to remind Natasha of her place among the vampiric elite, naturally. 

“Natasha! Too bad about your flying chipmunk,” Lady Cataline sneered, and then in a poor, faux Russian accent, “If only big irritating wampire-moose hadn’t escaped with HEEM.” 

Everyone, apart from the two new additions, laughed at this uproariously. It might have been less irritating if Natasha knew they weren’t just faking it for the sake of fitting into the group. 

“I think you’ll find Rocky was a  _ squirrel _ , Lady Cataline,” Natasha corrected- professionally though,  _ and _ polite, as was expected of her..but if one listened close enough, they’d hear the clench of fangs. “ _ Not _ a chipmunk. And that aside, I really do have something very important I need to-” 

The Count groaned in boredom. He was having too much fun to introduce practical concerns into this moment. 

“There will be time to discuss  _ very important things _ ,” he assured her, though slightly mocking. “For now, we celebrate the capture of our murderous traitors...and the life of my sister-in-marriage, the late, the gorgeous, the ineffable Marta.” 

Everyone bowed their heads in reverence, raised another glass of alcoholic blood. 

Natasha shut her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. Nonsense, indeed. 

“Yes, my-...utmost sympathies for the loss of your wife, my Lady,” she eventually conceded to the Countess, though how much of this ridiculousness she was meant to entertain while time ticked away, she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure how much she could stomach. “When dealing with Kresniks, these possibilities are always-” 

“She might still be here if we hadn’t favored  _ your _ plan,” the Countess spat, gesturing to her ladies-in-wait for another glass. “The train was too risky. I tried to say so.” 

Natasha went numb for a moment, blind-sided as she was by the gaslighting hail mary pass the Countess just threw at her. 

“I’m sorry, my lady,  _ my _ plan?” Still trying to sound politely confused, even as she was having to fight the urge to run over and claw the Countess’ eyes out. She might need Boris to physically restrain before it was all said and done. “It was indeed my intention to take advantage of the train, but the act we chose of dividing and conquering was entirely  _ yours _ , my-” 

“It is not  _ your _ place to correct her,” the Count snarled, to which his sister replied with a satisfied grin. “However she says it was, that’s how it was.” 

Natasha took a deep, stabilizing breath. Hammering out the details of what had gone wrong with the train operation wasn’t of the highest consequence right now, and dammit all, if she was going to get  _ any _ of them to listen she had to keep playing along. 

“Yes, of course, my lord,” she conceded. “My apologies, I did not mean to overstep. Moreover though, I wanted to talk about the Kresnik and the implications his very existence has for-”

But the Count still wasn’t interested in letting her get a word out edgewise. 

“Oh, for  _ fuckssake _ , Natasha.” The intimidating Count Dracula was now a bit too soused and unwieldy on wine-blood to speak with his usual, proper flair. “ _ Let _ Gabriel have his new little addition. Let him ritual into their stupid circle. He’ll kill his vampire friend, then we’ll kill the lot of them when the time is right.  _ Nothing _ has changed, and we’re wasting too much time on this gaggle of idiots.” 

Now this, Natasha could not abide, professionalism or no. 

“But you’re  _ wrong _ . My lord.” Everyone’s mouths fell open. Someone dropped their glass of wine-blood with a shatter. “ _ Everything _ has changed. This is no longer a matter of traitors and protective familiars. If this newest Kresnik makes it to the circle, if he undergoes the ritual and acclimates as part of them...it’s  _ over _ . It’s  **all** over.” 

There was much more to all of this of course, but as the willingness to listen seemed to be sparse-to-nonexistent, Natasha had to throw out the base information to try to get their attention. It seemed to have worked, though the dubiousness was palpable. 

“My lord, you engaged me to be your eyes and ears in the places you could not reach,” she reminded him. “As such, I would ask you to take me at my word. The Circle has been awaiting his arrival for a relatively long time. At least a hundred years or so. Van Helsing rides to meet him in Bucharest even as we speak. Guillermo de la Cruz is the key to the Rite.” 

Lady Cataline scrunched up her nose, and asked incredulously, “ _ What _ Rite? What could they possibly do to us now that would be worse or different than hundreds of years before?” 

Natasha gave her a wan smirk. Though she truly did fear the information she was about to relay, there was no small amount of satisfaction in correcting Lady Cataline. 

“The Holy Rite of  _ Mortis Sanguinem _ , an ancient curse set out to be enacted when the circle was finally complete. With the addition of the tenth warrior, they’ll have sufficient power to fuel it.” 

Still, the lot of them just stared at her in impatience and confusion. Natasha reminded herself most vampires don’t keep up with any languages they might have known at one time, apart from whatever they had to use normally. 

“It’s Latin for ‘blood death’,” she offered, but still no dice. “It’s a  _ spell _ that will cause the death of every vampire in existence. It will, effectively, wipe us from the earth.” 

Again, this wasn’t a fact she’d been particularly happy about unearthing at the time she was gathering undercover information, but it did give her a bit of a thrill to see the Count and his entire social circle now horror-stricken. They’d listen to her now, perhaps. 

* * *

  
  


Guillermo wasn’t sure if it was worse or better that Dominik had neglected to speak to him for the rest of the day. He was, of course, loathe to have to explain everything behind the gesture between him and his ‘vampire prisoner’ (uncertain if he even could, really) and even more so from having had to endure Nandor’s cold shoulder. Yet again.

He had, however, kept his mouth shut when Dominik began issuing definite orders to the rest of them, keen to allow him this authority in an area he was much more familiar with, particularly after it had come to light that they’d been lying the whole time. 

Dominik announced he knew of a place they could stay and restore themselves after the train mishap, but that they’d have to keep moving through the rest of the day so as to avoid another surprise vampire attack. What other choice did they have? 

Nandor might have given Guillermo a baleful look, nonverbally begging him to forgive the whole awkward hug-rejection thing and let him stay as a bat in his pocket for the day rather than Colin’s. But Guillermo pretended as if he couldn’t see him. 

Guillermo also listened, with no small amount of satisfaction, to Colin keep a running monologue for most of their trip across the forest. As Dominik and Annika had reverted back into their werewolf forms, scouted ahead in order to track scent and direction, it was little more than the ‘three’ of them to keep each other company. 

And when bat Nandor must have gotten too drained to listen to any more of it (it was afternoon and time in which he was usually sleeping, anyway), Colin began a drain campaign on Guillermo. Albeit, a little one, because he did have some regard for the fact that they needed to keep moving. 

“So...that hug was pretty awkward, huh?” 

Guillermo shut his eyes briefly in both irritation and humiliation. 

“Dominik looks just about fit to be tied. What do you plan on telling him?” 

“Fuck if I know,” Guillermo muttered, taking out his anger by kicking away a stone that had the gall to be on his path. He didn’t even really know what to tell  _ himself _ at this point. 

They walked in silence a moment longer, which was strange as it wasn’t like Colin not to take every available opportunity to feed. 

“He likes you a lot, y’know.” Colin sighed after awhile, sounding like it was taking everything in him to talk around his gag reflex for this admission. 

Guillermo narrowed his eyebrows in disturbed confusion. 

“Dominik…? Probably doesn’t like me much right  _ now _ -” 

“ _ No _ , moron. Nandor.” 

Guillermo took a cautionary look at Colin’s coat pocket, because Nandor was after all  _ in there _ and may not have been as asleep as they both thought. He really didn’t want to give his former master the satisfaction of his acknowledgement right now, much less engage Colin in a serious discussion about the state of their dynamic. 

“ _ Nandor _ likes having a quiet servant that takes his bullshit without complaint,” Guillermo corrected.  _ That _ , at least, he would want the vampire to hear. “And that’s not me anymore.” 

That had been his definitive take on the issue anyway, even if some part of him, however deep down, repressed, still inclined itself towards what Colin was saying. He may have  _ wanted _ to believe it, but that didn’t make it true.

“No, no,” Colin corrected, as plainly as if he was stating scientific fact. “He just likes himself some Gizmo in his life, no matter what you’re doing in it.  _ Apparently _ . Look, I’m not saying I get it either, but I know emotional energy, okay? That’s _ kind _ of my thing.” 

They heard the werewolves howl from some place not far off, indication that they should keep pressing forward on the current path. Nothing out of the ordinary, Annika and Dominik had been sending them update howls from the time they began walking that morning. 

The both of them stepped over a fallen log and clump of tree branches, while Guillermo mulled over what he’d just been told. 

“So, what is this?” he asked, with an understanding but slightly irritated tone. Guillermo knew Colin had to eat and was willing to help him out a little, he just would have preferred a different approach. Why couldn’t they talk about something else, something boring and inoffensive, like the national census? “New tactic you’re trying out? Ripening up an argument for me and Nandor later?” 

Colin stalled for a moment and looked hurt, a bit offended. 

“I don’t even  _ want _ to be talking about this!” he rallied back. “The whole will-they-won’t-they-thing is fun when you two are butting heads, but the silent treatment stuff, the flying hug, the stolen glances- ugh,  _ gag me _ . Far as I’m concerned, the less I tell you the more likely you two are to argue, so I’m doing  _ you _ a favor, pal.” 

Guillermo wasn’t sure he’d call whatever was happening right now a ‘favor’, but that wasn’t the worst of Colin’s word choices. 

“Will-they-won’t-...?! Come on, it’s not-...like  _ that _ .” 

He didn’t say it as confidently as he intended to, however, and his gaze naturally fell to the ground. His cheeks weren’t heating up or anything- that would’ve been particularly weird, considering they were still trudging their way through piles of mountain snow. 

“Oh, right, sorry,” Colin seemed to remember himself and Guillermo was glad for it. “You guys are still at the point of  _ denial _ about what’s going on. I’ve watched enough scripted TV over the decades, you’d think I’d have the pattern down by now.  _ Cheers _ , 1982, Ted Danson and Shelley Long’s Sam and Diane, the most iconic of these couples- ” 

Guillermo turned on his heel, initially intent to tell Colin off and simultaneously shed some of his residual, pent up anger, but he softened just a bit at the last minute to keep his own composure. 

“Ok, listen, there’s  _ nothing _ going on between me and Nandor.” His tone was still unwaveringly firm and did not invite argument. “He sees me as beneath him, and he probably  _ always _ will, and unless I’m doing what  _ he _ wants, when  _ he _ wants it, there’s no space for me in his life. He’s made that very clear, time and time again. Over the course of 11 years. I think that’s more than enough time to get an idea of how someone feels about you. How they’ll  _ always _ feel.” 

Colin opened his mouth as if to say something, but Guillermo continued.

“I tried to be his friend. I did. I  _ tried _ . To his credit, I think even  _ he _ tried a little, but...I just am who I am in his eyes, and that’s never going to be anyone of importance..whether I’m a familiar, a vampire, or a kresnik.” 

Colin once again edged out a syllable, but Guillermo stopped him before the thought could even manifest. 

“I’m trying my  _ hardest _ to accept that,” he explained, and his volume dropped, became more vulnerable and level because he really  _ needed _ Colin to understand. He needed whatever part of Colin’s brain that took things seriously to receive him at his word here. 

After all, it wasn’t as if Guillermo hadn’t  _ thought _ about it. Wanted it, a little, maybe. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t imagined him and Nandor one day finding a friendship rhythm that worked for them (before, this fantasy usually happened after his turning into a vampire), a dynamic that was equal. Comfortable. Easy...for the most part. Some situation in which the affection they felt for one another didn’t have to be repressed, cloaked away by Nandor’s constant need to cling to rules and expectation and tradition. 

And maybe in very, very weak, desperate, dark and private moments, Guillermo’s imagination would go so far as to expand on the image of him and Nandor watching old horror films beside each other on the couch. He might imagine that one evening Nandor turns to him, and they look at each other, the tension that’s been silently building now hanging in the space between them. He would imagine Nandor didn’t hesitate from holding his hand- not for utilitarian purposes, but just because he couldn’t stand  _ not _ touching him. 

That was about as far as that scenario would get before Guillermo would put the breaks on things and try to switch out Nandor with Jason Momoa or Oscar Isaac or something...but it never really worked, was never really the same.

But it was just a weird thought, right? Everyone had them, those moments where one inexplicably wonders what might have happened if they’d made different choices in life, if factors had gone another way, if personal dynamics were different, and Guillermo figured that’s all it was. He’d been plagued by many similar, disconcerting dreams and thoughts in his time occupying the Staten Island house. 

The dream he’d had a couple years back of making out with Laszlo on the couch still gave him unpleasant shivers. It had most certainly been the subconscious result of a week-long campaign Laszlo had running to demonstrate to everyone how ‘chivalrous kisses’ on the coy object of one’s affections should look; he felt Nadja wasn’t coy enough for the purpose, and that Nandor’s shy familiar needed to be the guinea pig for his demonstrations. 

Sometimes he felt he could still hear Laszlo padding behind him, yelling out encouragements of, “It’ll only take a moment! I’m very skilled, you know! Trousers don’t  _ necessarily _ have to come off!”

And then, of course, Nandor having to put repeated barriers between his familiar and Laszlo because of this, and the one time Guillermo could have sworn Nandor said, “Guillermo is  _ my _ familiar, and only  _ I _ may kiss him!” but he may have misheard. 

He probably did. 

Still, the images his brain had so generously given him of his and Laszlo’s fancy room makeout didn’t give him weird stomach flutters. He didn’t find himself later actively wanting  _ Laszlo  _ to cradle his jaw and whisper against his lips (ew), but change that person to  _ Nandor _ and suddenly…

Well. It didn’t matter anyway. 

Colin just kind of shrugged after a while. “Sure, whatever. I don’t honestly care that much.” And Guillermo knew it to be true when he walked ahead casually, whistling to himself. 

* * *

  
  


It was dusk when Colin and Guillermo finally met back up properly with Annika and Dominik, Guillermo once again forfeiting his trenchcoat so that Annika could be human  _ and _ decent for their arrival at their guest’s house. 

“There hasn’t been time yet to speak with you about this, so I must do that now,” Dominik said, just after stopping them at the hill overlooking the house in question and  Gullermo swallowed thickly . “It concerns our host; he is a very, very kind and intelligent man and, actually-” He gestured to Guillermo. “A very old, close friend of your great-great...great grand-  _ Gabriel _ . He’s friends with Gabriel. They go back a long way.” 

Guillermo’s eyebrows rose in interest; it was the first pleasant surprise of the day (beyond the fact that Dominik wasn’t planning on a personal confrontation). While his eventual meeting with his actual ancestor loomed both an exciting and terrifying prospect in the back of his mind, he was very eager to get the opportunity to talk more about Van Helsing with someone who knew him well. Maybe get a better idea of what to expect when the day came. 

“ _ However _ ,” Dominik warned, holding up a finger. “Our friend is...a bit unusual. Like us, yes? It’s just that...his ‘strangeness’ sits more closely to the surface. His appearance can be...striking.” 

“He’s real ugly then, huh, boss?” Annika asked, but she sounded more pitying of their host than anything else. 

Dominik seemed to war with himself over this interpretation. 

“Well. Beauty is a subjective thing and-...look, yes, he doesn’t look great. He’s seven different dead men sewn together, brought to life with dubious methods, and he’s been alive for 200 years. Actually. For a 200 year old corpse-collage, he doesn’t look that bad...” 

Guillermo squinted his eyes in thought. “You’re-...are you describing the Frankenstein Monster? That’s a real thing?”

Dominik gave him a slightly disapproving look, and it reminded Guillermo that he had yet to be confronted about...the thing. With Nandor. Maybe that was still forthcoming. 

“He’s not a  _ thing _ , kresnik. Or a monster. Gabriel gave that judgment 200 years ago, and it is not our place to contradict.” 

Guillermo scoffed a little because he wasn’t  _ trying _ to, why did everyone always take him in bad faith?

But he wasn’t given time to make an argument in his defense, as Dominik was eager to move the group along to their next destination. The point he’d been trying to make, he clarified, was that the whole of them should try to avoid reacting negatively (or at all, if possible) to their host’s appearance. They also needed to keep themselves scarce around the side of the house until Dominik gave them the go-ahead to make a proper introduction. 

He also warned Guillermo, specifically, with a knowing tone of voice, “You may also want to advise your vampire to stay as a bat. Our host is not fond of leeches either.” 

Guillermo knew better than to say anything back to that one way or the other, but he did sort of mumble to himself, “Is  _ anyone _ over here?” 

It should be noted that the house they approached was unlike anything Guillermo might have imagined Frankenstein’s monster would dwell in; a sort of modern-style, decently sized mountain chalet that looked treated to regular, meticulous upkeep. What would he have pinned as the best kind of house for Frankenstein’s creation? A haunted, old, run-down looking shack, maybe. Certainly not this. 

Guillermo, Colin, Annika (and Nandor, technically, who still bat-napped in Colin’s pocket) waited patiently for their cue around the garden patio table near the front entrance. In summer and spring, Guillermo had to imagine, the foliage in said front garden must have been elaborate and lush, only minutely taken back from its full beauty as it was in the mountain snows of late autumn. 

Again, it was very strange to remind himself that he was on the Frankenstein Monster’s property. 

Muffled voices were heard discussing the situation near the door for a time, while the three of them sat in companionable, if not still-awkward silence.

Finally, Dominik gave them the ‘cue’ of a sweeping arm gesture that it was okay to approach the door- so not really a secret signal or anything so much as a normal thing to do. But whatever. 

The exterior of the house might not have done it justice; inside, it was clean, airy, bright (or rather, would have been during the day), with lots of windows that painted a colorful scene of the sun’s golden glow disappearing behind the dark mountain peaks. Lush, indoor plants snaked and bloomed in every corner, and every open space of wall contained an orderly bookshelf of various studies, sciences and literatures. There were also many framed degrees of different kinds, all of them awarded to a Dr. Adam Viktor Frankenstein. 

Every so often one might notice an indoor enclosure of some kind of animal, be it rabbit, reptile, dog or cat- ‘his food source?’, Guillermo wondered, but then realized it wasn’t likely the Monster-  _ Dr. Frankenstein _ , would be caring for and treating their injuries if he planned to eat them. He was rehabilitating these animals, it seemed. 

Guillermo felt guilty for his moment of prejudice and assumption. 

“In your own time, Doctor, we’re here,” Dominik called out, leaning on his knees to babytalk a bearded dragon in a terrarium nearby. 

After a moment, from a darkened hallway emerged their host, Dr. Adam Frankenstein- the Frankenstein  _ monster _ . He looked to be about 9 ft tall, approximately, and almost just as wide and muscular. His skin was a rather unnatural, sallow color, but he didn’t seem to suffer from excessive decomposition beyond this. Evident on his face and arms; the sewing scars from where other mens flesh had been fused together. 

He was also...dressed in a very stylish, casual and clean ensemble of a sweater vest and slacks, his undershirt rolled to the elbows as he was currently cradling a baby rabbit swaddled in a blanket, gently feeding it a bottle.

There was, of course, an initial horror to seeing him, but Guillermo found these little details revealed the man Dominik had described. His eyes were also alarmingly kind and soft, so out of place on the hard, massive, scarred head they were stuck into. But maybe that had just been the original Dr. Frankenstein’s mistake. 

“Doctor!” Dominik greeted warmly, indicating a comfortable knowledge of each other. “I bring someone very special with me today. This is Guillermo de la Cruz, the newest kresnik. He travels to the circle to meet Gabriel.” 

Dominik had put a gentle hand on the Doctor’s massive shoulder (if Guillermo had found Dominilk to be a tall and imposing man, he looked quite small and delicate standing next to the doctor), guided him over to Guillermo, and the Doctor approached him with a sense of reverence that Guillermo had yet to not find weird. He handed the baby rabbit over to Dominik, stood to his full height, and Guillermo felt his head swimming a little bit. 

“You carry a great responsibility, young man.” The voice that came from him was as out of place as his eyes, clothing, and house- it was smooth, deep, classically British, seamlessly spoken. “ _ All _ of our hope for the future. I can only pray that, like your ancestor, you never treat this as a trifling matter.” 

Guillermo swallowed after a sharp intake of breath. 

“No...no, of course not-...never. I take it very seriously. Of course.” 

Decidedly not delivered with the utmost confidence, yet the Doctor seemed satisfied with this answer. He may have even smiled a bit out of the corner of his crooked mouth. 

“You have his eyes,” he observed. “Dark, sharp. A sadness taints them.” 

Guillermo didn’t know what to say to this, but it seemed a reply wasn’t necessary. The Doctor moved on to addressing the group, “You are all more than welcome to stay as long as you like...though, I suppose that won’t be very long, will it? Make yourselves at home, anyway. Please.” 

It was right about then that Nandor decided he’d had enough of camping out in Colin’s mothball scented sweater pocket, fluttered out and then poofed back into human form. He stood there like an idiot for a moment, stretching out his various limbs. 

“It’s so hot and cramped in there!” he whined. “Was  _ anyone _ going to bother releasing me or-” 

Nandor caught his first glimpse of their host. 

“THE FUCK IS THAT-” 

Guillermo had jumped up, wrapped his hand around Nandor’s mouth quicker than it was normal for humans to move, he was pretty sure.  _ Fucking. Dumbass. _

As Nandor writhed a bit against Guillermo’s hold and tried to belt out muffled curses against his palm, Dr. Frankenstein looked none too pleased to have a blood-sucker in his house- the exact reason why they had wanted Nandor to stay put in bat form in the  _ first _ place, but Guillermo didn’t think it likely he would’ve behaved even if he had been asked. 

“Is that-...is he…?” 

Dominik gave the Doctor an understanding look of frustration, a roll of the eyes as he placed baby rabbit back in his crate. 

“Yes. And that’s a very long story. Perhaps best if you ask the kresnik  _ himself _ to explain- but later, of course, once we’ve settled.” And proving himself adept at changing the subject when it was most needed, “Doctor, may I-...my clothes. I had to revert to wolf form and-...”

Dominik held out his poor, tattered sweater and t-shirt, and Guillermo wondered that he hadn’t completely ruined his clothes as Annika had. Speaking of which, she was looking at Dominik’s clothing mishap with a deadpan silence, being that she was currently standing naked beneath a trench coat. 

At this, the Doctor brightened and beckoned them deeper into the house. 

“Of course! There are all different samples from my werewolf line in the studio, you may be the first to wear them! We’ll have to do a modeling photoshoot, perhaps.” 

The werewolves then disappeared with the Doctor with nary an explanation, leaving Colin, Nandor and Guillermo to only guess as to what any of that was about. Shortly after this, Guillermo remembered he had his hand still plastered over his former Master’s mouth and released him. 

Nandor sent him a glare as he dusted himself off (all those  _ disgusting _ kresnik/human germs, Guillermo had to assume), but Guillermo, this time, returned the look in kind. Nandor’s eyes darted away from his not long after. 

“So, are either of you going to tell me what the  _ fuck _ is going on?” Nandor said finally, though he seemed to address this more to Colin and the wall than Guillermo- that was probably on purpose. “And what’s wrong with that man, is he sick? He doesn’t look well…”

“Well, from what I understand,” Colin assisted, his voice flat to indicate he was feeling a bit peckish. “He’s a science experiment in the reanimation of dead tissue. One could make the argument that he’s technically a  _ zombie _ , but-”

Guillermo had enough. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he snapped. “He’s our  _ host _ and we’re going to treat him with respect.” 

And this time, he didn’t hesitate to make firm, hard eye contact with each of his companions. Neither one of them had much to say this one way or another, apart from exchanging nervous, awkward looks. 

“ I’m gonna find somewhere to put my things.” Guillermo grumbled, already making his way out of the living room and away from the other two- nevermind that he didn’t really have _ things _ anymore aside from what he had on his body. “Try to avoid saying or doing anything _ stupid _ while I’m gone.” 

* * *

  
  


For even someone as normally obtuse, tone-deaf and self-isolating as Nandor, it was becoming very, very clear that he was approaching a crossroads. 

Ten. Eleven? Years now, he and Guillermo had known each other. More than that, they had lived in a more-or-less intimate, domestic arrangement for  _ that long _ , countless early evening awakenings, untold amounts of dressing and undressing, brushing hair, pulling up boots, providing food, playing cards, chess, and though even eleven years was usually but a blip on the radar to a vampire who’d been around for nearly 800 years,  _ Guillermo’s mark _ on him was anything but. 

Nandor would successfully lie to himself sometimes. Often, maybe. He’d tell himself enough that it didn’t matter, Guillermo was a human or-...whatever he was, contemptible, stupid, beneath his kind, not worthy of his deeper emotion. He’d tell himself, he’d  _ convince _ himself he felt that way, and time and time again, Guillermo would successfully correct him and he’d remember. 

_ Oh yes. I’m weak. _

He’d known he was weak since he first met his former familiar. No amount of conquering and pillaging and martial legacy was going to erase the fact that he’d a vulnerable spot on his unbeating heart for Guillermo, one that had only grown bigger over the years. Maybe it was the whole of it now. 

He wasn’t  _ supposed _ to care when he felt Guillermo pulling further away from him, on to bigger and better things. That wasn’t a thing vampires did. It wasn’t a thing they were  _ supposed _ to do. 

Nevertheless,  _ he _ did. Even against his pride, his need for a sense of control over his own vulnerability, he found himself wanting to claw out in the darkness, to fall on his knees and beg. 

_ Don’t leave me, Guillermo. Please. _

That wasn’t to say there was  _ a lot _ of thought or introspection with his decision to accompany Guillermo outside, in the back garden of the house. He didn’t want to be around people he barely knew (and Colin), who hated him simply for being what he was, granted, but he felt himself drawn to his ex-familiar, compelled to go after him and...do  _ something _ . Anything. 

He’d been awake during Guillermo and Colin’s intense conversation about him, though he wasn’t going to admit it openly. He’d heard what Guillermo said, with such resoluteness Nandor knew he had to believe it,  _ ‘I just am who I am in his eyes, and that’s never going to be anyone of importance’ _ . 

_ Oh, Guillermo. _

If he had the courage to really speak his truths, Nandor would whole-heartedly correct that Guillermo was in fact, quite possibly,  _ the _ most important thing in his life. His best friend- or, as close as he had been to one since Jahan. His confidant. His consistency. His comfort. 

But to say such things would be disgusting. Weak. Pathetic. Guillermo didn’t share those feelings, anyway, he was certain. This had always been a job for him, hadn’t it? A means to an end that no longer mattered. Nandor didn’t hold this against him, it was the way things had to be. Were  _ supposed _ to be. 

Guillermo was much better at playing that role than he was. 

“It’s rather chilly, isn’t it, to be sitting out here…?” 

Nandor hadn’t had to look far beyond the backdoor to find him, sitting on a swinging bench near a warmly lit fountain, whittling away on a makeshift stake, jaw tight. 

He was visibly angry, so Nandor chose his tone and words as carefully as he knew how. Also, he would have to admit some genuine concern about the cold weather and Guillermo’s human fragility. Or-...again, whatever he was. Nandor was still worried. 

Guillermo didn’t bother to look up before managing a terse, “I’m  _ fine _ .” 

Nandor hesitated to say anything further, as he had felt the sense of power balance between them over time begin to tip to Guillermo’s favor. In everything he did, at least in this moment, he vied to be as gentle, as polite as possible. 

“.....may I join you?” he attempted after a long pause. “They don’t really-...no one wants me in there.”

Because if he needed a clever excuse as to why he was here at all, that had absolutely nothing to do with Guillermo, he had to provide it off the bat. They didn’t want him in there, of course. Not the other way around. 

Guillermo just shrugged, still refusing to visibly acknowledge him. “It’s a free country.” And then he hesitated a moment, seemed to think about it, “Actually. I don’t know if-...yeah, whatever. Do whatever you want. That’s all you ever do, isn’t it?” 

Nandor knew it was meant as an insult, but also realized it was deserved. And maybe not that insulting anyway, because  _ yes _ he usually just did whatever he wanted and why should that be a bad thing?? 

It wasn’t a good opportunity to argue over petty things, time was against him for once. 

He took a seat beside Guillermo on the porch swing, his hands finding their place running nervously up and down his own thighs. 

“It isn’t-...” he attempted, the words getting caught in his throat for a moment. “... _ easy _ for me to admit when I’m in the wrong.  _ Thankfully _ , I rarely am.” 

He didn’t notice Guillermo roll his eyes, dig his whittling knife in deeper to the wood. 

“That being said...I told you I would be a better friend than I was a master.” Nandor remembered Guillermo’s words, how they’d saddened him, and it helped to push past his need to seem infallible. “I-...don’t think I’ve been doing a good job.” 

He  _ knew _ he hadn’t been doing a good job. 

Guillermo replied through clenched teeth, “It doesn’t matter.” 

“It  _ does _ though!” Nandor argued, almost on impulse, but then reigned himself back in with yet another ‘logical’ explanation for his sudden passion; “I don’t want to become known as...Nandor the Liar. Nandor the...Shitty Friend-” 

“God, will you just-” 

Nandor was struck silent by Guillermo suddenly throwing down the stake he’d been working on, gathering fistfuls of his own hair as he leaned in overwhelmed irritation on his elbows. 

“I can’t do this right now, okay?” His former familiar recovered enough to sit back up, tried to brush his hair back into place, but Nandor could still hear the increased pounding of his heart. “I can’t do the whole-...fake apology, talking to me like I’m four, rearranging things so I have to say, ‘ _ No, Master, you’re not an asshole, you’re the greatest vampire that ever walked the earth!’ _ or whatever and-... _ fuck _ . “ 

Guillermo rose from the swing, turned his back to Nandor and shoved his hands in his pockets, but didn’t walk away. 

Nandor, in shock and at a loss, managed the only suitable thing he could think to say, “....you seem a bit... _ stressed _ .” 

Guillermo laughed, but it was sarcastic as it was mocking, and turned back around to face him. 

“Yeah. I’m stressed! Just  _ a little _ . Because in...however many days’ time, I’m going to finally meet my legendary ancestor, I’m gonna finally stand there in front of him, like an  _ asshole _ , claiming I’m some kind of ‘prophesied holy warrior’ and not, y’know...just some boring schlub from the Bronx that’s never going to amount to anything. He’s gonna know, right away, that this was all some big mistake and now I’m-...” 

Guillermo sighed, shook his head, ran a hand through his hair. 

“I’m sitting here, whittling stakes, like I have any idea what the fuck I’m doing.” 

Nandor was still feeling a bit at sea with everything that was going on, all of which was hard for him to immediately process and put together, but he  _ knew _ Guillermo was hurting and that put a weight on his own heart that he couldn’t easily deny. 

When Guillermo walked away a few paces this time, Nandor desperately fetched the discarded stake. He approached him, tapped him on the shoulder, extended it. 

“You’re _ not _ just some boring schlub.” Nandor may have even called him as much once, if not multiple times, in moments where he felt compelled to protect himself with metaphorical walls- but he hoped, given it was just them and the silence of night in the mountains, Guillermo would recognize his unfiltered honesty. “...I wouldn’t have abided it for a familiar...much less one that served me so well for ten years-  _ Eleven _ years.” 

Guillermo turned to him, albeit slightly, and accepted the stake back with no small amount of reluctance. His eyes were still downturned, however, forlornly at the ground as he nursed his feelings of inadequacy. 

And that hurt Nandor, of course, but for Guillermo to not accept what he so clearly was capable of doing...it didn’t make  _ sense _ . 

“And it’s not a mistake,” Nandor added, almost nudging him. “We’ve all seen what you can do...  _ I _ have.”

Because he wanted Guillermo to know-  _ I’ve seen you. I’ve feared you. I’m in awe of you _ . 

But...maybe not in so many words. Not if he didn’t  _ have _ to. 

A silence coasted between them then, as they stood at the precipice of the back garden, facing the open trail to the Carpathian foothills. 

It probably made sense Nandor felt vulnerable now, perhaps more than he had in recent memory...but it mattered that he felt safe. Comfortable. It was difficult not to when Guillermo was beside him. 

“You know...after I was turned into a vampire...there was a time, I think, I must have been just as confused.” 

If he’d spoken about his unholy transition to Guillermo before, it certainly hadn’t been like this. Nandor liked to make up different, elaborate, impressive stories for how seamlessly he had transitioned, how he’d felt powerful and imbued with the strength of the gods to conquer even more kingdoms...but the truth was, at least as far as he remembered it, far more depressing than that. It had felt like the beginning of the end. 

And maybe he needed Guillermo to know that. 

“I remember...feeling angry that I didn’t choose it.” 

He saw Guillermo turn to him after a bit, just out of the corner of his eye. 

“You didn’t-... _ want _ to be a vampire?” 

“Well, no, not really,” Nandor confessed, toying with his own fingers in idle thought. “To be honest, at the time I didn’t even really know what they were...you know, not until I could no longer go out in sunlight, and I always violently threw up when I ate my favorite foods, and my wives were starting to look delicious for reasons that weren’t sexual...the harem eunuchs too  _ mmm _ …..it was a very confusing time for me.” 

Guillermo shifted his weight, pushed the bridge of his glasses up his nose.

“You’ve never...shared that with me before.”

For how easy it had been to say it now, and for how long he had denied Guillermo one simple, basic truth about himself, Nandor felt shame. It was undeniable. 

“...no,” he agreed. “Didn’t really have a reason to, I suppose.” 

A logical explanation, and an accurate one, but not all-encompassing. Insightful as ever, Guillermo pointed this out;

“I mean. It’s hard to share personal stories when you’re mostly yelling. And insulting.” 

Nandor winced. “....yeah. Fair.” 

Another uneasy silence, one in which Nandor tried to grapple with the effect of his past behaviors spilling into their current situation. Guillermo was very forgiving, it occurred to him. Unreasonably patient. 

Maybe those were good qualities to have alongside a compulsive need to kill.

“Is that why you never made me a vampire?” Guillermo asked suddenly, facing him, looking him in the eyes and begging a good answer. “You wanted to protect me from all of that?”

From the tone of his voice, it was clear Guillermo already knew what the answer would be. For this reason, Nandor could only reply with an incredulous, impatient look. 

“No,” Guillermo nodded, answering his own question with a disappointed, flat smile. “I guess I just wasn’t ever...vampire material. Better as a  _ familiar _ , definitely.” 

Nandor scoffed. For as intelligent as he knew Guillermo to be, he could really be very, very dense sometimes. 

“It wasn’t like  _ that _ -” Nandor attempted, rolling his eyes a bit because Guillermo was being purposefully obtuse to make him look worse than he was. It was obvious. 

But Guillermo cut him off. 

“Nandor, how am I supposed to believe that I’m at all suited to ‘this’ thing,” He swept his hands up and down his trenchcoat, indicating his ‘kresnik’ destiny, one could assume. “When I wasn’t even deemed worthy enough to make a bitchy joke about Nadja and Laszlo once and awhile? Much less get to... _ be _ one of you.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, I never said anything like that!”

It was the best defense Nandor could manage for himself in the moment, and weak though he knew it to be, he still delivered it with the utmost confidence. 

“Okay, fine, then just  _ tell _ me!” Guillermo tiredly laughed. “The truth. Doesn’t matter now, anyway, right? So...why? Why didn’t you ever do it…? You were just  _ that _ codependent on my free labor? I mean-...I always kinda thought...if you hated having me around that much, why not just turn me? I’d fuck off, I’d find another vampire commune, I’d-”

“That’s exactly why I  _ didn’t _ !” 

Having a fragile pride was a difficult thing, challenging as it could be sometimes to know where to compensate. In the heat of not wanting Guillermo to misunderstand his intentions as something far more selfish, Nandor completely forgot that he was also very protective of anyone knowing just how much he actually  _ did _ care. 

Even as he regretted saying as much as he had, even as he waited, terrified, for the reply, he still didn’t back down from the point when Guillermo continued to misconstrue his intentions.

“Because of...the free labor, or-?” 

“No!” Nandor barked, and then promptly collapsed in on himself at the next part, necessary though it was, “Because...I didn’t want you to go.” 

“You didn’t...want me to-…?”

“It’s  _ stupid _ !” Nandor all but cried out, humiliated and flayed bare more than he was letting on. “But...I don’t know. I turn you into a cool, sexy vampire and everyone would want you. They  _ already _ do.” 

“What’re you  _ talking _ about…?” 

Nandor rolled his eyes again. It was so clear to him, after all. 

“Oh, Guillermo, don’t play dumb, you’re too smart for that. I know you’re aware of the way everyone looks at you. Vampire, human, werewolf...doesn’t matter. Whether they want to eat you, or fuck you, or be your friend, or whatever nasty ideas they have-” 

Nandor told himself it wasn’t selfish to want to protect his human against the predatory appetites of the world- and it was a good thing he did, too! If Guillermo really was  _ this _ willingly obtuse about how desirable he was in multiple facets, how hungrily everyone looked at him when he entered a room, the many times Nandor had felt compelled to secretly, protectively hiss at an unwanted admirer, to shield Guillermo’s sumptuous form with his cape, it was a blessing he had a vampire friend to keep an eye out for perverts. 

And maybe also that he had that kresnik power. 

It had nothing to do with Nandor’s need to have Guillermo to himself. That absolutely was not a factor at all. Of course.  _ Naturally _ . He was just...being a good friend...and how could he protect his friend if his friend wasn’t around? Vampire, kresnik or otherwise... 

But still, Guillermo seemed wholly unconvinced and increasingly confused, frustrated. The more he forced out tired laughs, the more Nandor knew this to be true. 

“No one does that!” he insisted. He believed it. “No one! Not to  _ me _ !” 

“Well, if you believe that you’re very unobservant.” For once, Nandor didn’t feel like arguing the point further, not if Guillermo was going to be this stubbornly convinced otherwise. “I’ve been around you for a decade. Don’t tell me I’m wrong, I know what I see.” 

But in the next silence that followed afterwards, so did insecurity at his own motives. Nandor could tell himself he denied Guillermo what he wanted so long for his own protection; in the end, he  _ knew _ it was his own selfishness. A better man/vampire would have owned and admitted as much outloud to whatever consequence awaited him, but Nandor could only favor cowardice. 

It was the safest defense against heartbreak. 

“...I wouldn’t have left.” The last thing he had expected Guillermo to say. “Not if you hadn’t wanted me to.” 

Nandor was confused. Then shocked. Then, unbearably confused again, then panicked. Guillermo was lying to save his feelings. He had to be.

Nevertheless, he ventured, hopeful, “...even as a  _ vampire _ …?” 

“Why would I?” Guillermo shrugged, as if it was the most reasonable assumption anyone could come to. “Weird as it sounds...you guys are more like family to me than my family, sometimes.” 

Nandor was at a loss. He hadn’t considered, not for even one, measly second in the course of Guillermo’s service, that their-...whatever they had, whatever spaces they occupied around one another, those they spoke of and those they didn’t, could have continued. Maybe have even been better. 

All this time, fearing turning his familiar, and yet-...

He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to do...because none of it mattered any more. If it ever had, Nandor had lost his chance. 

“But now...we’re going to find your  _ real _ family,” he felt compelled to point out to both of them. In that sense, maybe it hadn’t been entirely selfish and horrible that he’d denied them what they both may have wanted for so long. Guillermo had better things awaiting him. “And, I guess...it stands to reason, that when you  _ do _ meet them…”

It was his first time really thinking about it, what would happen when this was over. It all seemed so fast, a blur of trains and blood and explosions and sharp teeth, and in the sense of routine, Nandor’d had no opportunity to consider that Guillermo might not be with them when they returned to Staten Island. Why would he have? It felt like Guillermo had always been there, always would be. 

He did have that opportunity now. 

“I don’t know what’s gonna happen.” Guillermo spoke softly. Was he trying to comfort him? “I just came here to find answers.” 

Nandor appreciated the effort, but they both knew. If they hadn’t before, they certainly did now. 

“...anyway,” Guillermo continued, now burdened with a self-inflicted obligation of trying to make things casual and lighthearted in the wake of having absolutely no other way to fix this. “We’re assuming Van Helsing is going to want anything to do with me when he actually sees-”

Nandor couldn’t do it anymore. It hurt too much. 

“He will.” He answered, resolute, sweeping his cape around him as he turned to go back to the house. “Or he’s an idiot.”


End file.
